


starlight raining over me

by charcoal_moon



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Willpower!, But Also!, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Justice, Pre-Season/Series 01, The One Where Dick is a Green Lantern, Updates Sundays, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoal_moon/pseuds/charcoal_moon
Summary: [That’s when something strange happens.A shooting star falls from the sky and comes to a stop two inches from his nose. With a cry of alarm, Dick backs away from the brightly glowing object.It’s green.RICHARD GRAYSON OF EARTH,says the emerald star.YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO OVERCOME GREAT FEAR. WELCOME TO THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS.“What the fuck,” Dick says blankly.]The Flying Graysons fall in Coast City instead of Gotham, and Dick Grayson's path to heroism involves a hell of a lot more faith, trust, and alien tech than anyone ever expected.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson & Wally West, Hal Jordan & Barry Allen
Comments: 51
Kudos: 168





	1. Dick Grayson, Origins (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I told you I'd post more DC nonsense soon, right?
> 
> This fic was originally created and uploaded by white_silence, who has since left the Archive. Seeing as they have no intention to return, I requested that I be allowed to continue this fic. The first two chapters were written by white_silence; the following will be by yours truly! 
> 
> A message from the original author:  
>  _Dear readers, thank you for all the support you gave me during my four-year stint on AO3. Unfortunately, due to personal reasons, I will no longer be posting to this site (or to any other site). That being said, I want to express my gratitude. You stuck with me through multiple switches in fandom, several changes in writing style, and 210000+ words of fan-created content. That means more to me than I can express. I love you guys, and I wish you the best in the new year._  
>  —Blizzard
> 
> This fic's title is taken from "Starlight" by Jai Wolf.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Original author's note: I tossed canon, particularly the timelines, in a blender for this. Oops._
> 
> Chapters 1 and 2 have only been edited for grammar and punctuation. No changes have been made to their content.

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 12, 2009, 19:27 PDT»**

In a ratty apartment in the center of the city, a man is sprawled across his couch, melancholy radiating from his prone form. The cause of his depression glows on the screen of his phone.

**shay ❤: hey hal it's been fun but i don't think this is gonna work out. nothing personal, i've just got other priorities. have a nice night.**

Hal Jordan is _not_ having a nice night. He's having a terrible one, actually. He's just gotten dumped! Via _text!_ Shay couldn't have been colder if she'd sent him a _letter._ Bitterly, Hal imagines this:

**My dearest Hal,**

**I regretfully inform you that we must cease our romantic entanglement, for I cannot leave my heart in the hands of a soldier. By the time you get this (** ** _if_ ** **you get this, for you may have perished of dysentery since our last correspondence), I will have wed a Baron. I wish you well.**

**Yours in spirit,**

**Lady Shay**

Hal groans. He's losing it over nothing. So his latest fling has crashed and burned. He'll go out, get drunk, and move the hell on.

Twenty minutes later, he's well on his way to his favorite bar. He's got an alcohol schedule all planned out (liquor before beer; you're in the clear!) before he realizes that this is the exact kind of thing he's been trying to avoid. Hal is supposed to face his problems like a real man, like a real…

He casts a glance at the ring on his hand. Right. Like a real hero.

"If I'm not gonna drink, what am I gonna do?" Hal murmurs. He could always go for a fly, whether that means hijacking a jet from the airfield or activating the aforementioned ring, but that would land him in shit with both his employers. Unless he's really sneaky…?

While he's debating his next course of action, a couple strides by. Their son totters along at top speed behind them, trying his best to keep up with the adults.

"—take him to the circus, if only he'll stop whining."

"Sounds good to me, Janet—"

The hero pauses. There's a circus in town? Well, let it be known that Hal is a big kid at heart, and a class act sounds like an _excellent_ distraction.

He discreetly tails the family to the field where the big top has been set up. Children run past, laughing, and the air is filled with lively chatter. Hal smiles, feeling nostalgic. His father had taken him to a place like this when he was a kid. He’d gotten to pet an elephant and everything.

Shaking away the memories, Hal buys a ticket and a bag of popcorn. He munches on the kernels as he makes his way to a seat. The taste of salt and butter blooms sharp on his tongue, tethering him to earth in a manner distinctly unlike alcohol. Huh. For once, he's made a good choice.

(The Justice League would be so proud.)

At 8:00 PM, the show begins with a bang. The ringmaster appears in a burst of glittery smoke, announcing,

"Welcome one, welcome all, to Haly's Circus! Prepare to be amazed by quirky beasts, daring tricks, and the world's greatest acrobats— The Flying Graysons!"

Ah. That must be referring to the group of people hovering in the wings, who many of the audience members look thrilled to see. The red-yellow-green outfits they're clad in make them resemble traffic lights.

(Then again, Hal's costume isn't the most stylish of get-ups. He has no right to judge.)

Hal settles in to watch, and the greatest show unfolds before him. It’s fun, but it would be _more_ fun if he had someone to share it with. Alas, Hal is flying solo once again. He briefly toys with the thought of calling Barry, but his old friend is probably busy with patrol. Barring that, he has a wife and a recently acquired kid.

Okay. Hal can handle himself.

He snaps back to awareness when the Graysons take the stage. They're amazing, each and every one of them. They soar through the sky like they belong there, not on the ground with the rest of the common folk.

One of the acrobats is particularly surprising. He's young, likely under ten years old, but he's keeping pace with the rest of his troupe. He breezes through a death-defying stunt— a four-turn somersault that has Hal's head spinning— before roosting on a platform. The other Graysons start setting up for the final part of the act.

The audience _oohs_ obligingly, watching the trick unfold. But a strange sense of foreboding creeps over Hal, distracting him from the show.

_Something feels wrong. But why?_

On a whim, Hal glances at the ceiling. His eyes are drawn to the bright ensemble of the youngest acrobat, who is looking at the trapeze in horror.

**_"Firete!"_ ** He shouts over the cheering and clapping. **_"Firete!"_ **

It happens so quickly that Hal doesn't have time to react. The lines holding the trapeze snap, and the acrobats plunge toward the ground. A sickening crunch echoes throughout the big top— a sound that Hal knows too well.

The sound of bones shattering.

All the cheers turn to screams.

As everyone around him runs away, Hal runs _toward_ the carnage. He reaches the center of the ring just as the young boy does.

Sobbing, the child falls to his knees next to one of the women. **_"Dya! Dya, nu! Dat! John!"_ **

Hal gently takes him by the shoulders and pulls him back, trying to stop him from throwing himself over the bodies. The endeavor is only somewhat successful— the little acrobat is already covered in blood.

"Don't look, kid," the Green Lantern whispers. "Don't look."

As the sirens begin singing in the distance, Hal abruptly remembers his mother answering the door on what, by all rights, had been a normal day. The sense of peace had fractured the instant the visitor had said, "Ma'am, I'm with the US Air Force, and I regret to inform you that your husband—"

(He hadn't finished the sentence before Hal's mother started crying.)

Hal couldn't save his dad, and he couldn't save this family, but he _can_ lessen the pain of losing a loved one. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around the boy's trembling frame.

Then, he waits. As the moon rises in the sky, as the first responders file in, as the sense of tragedy twists in his stomach like a knife…

…Hal waits beside that little boy, who has no one left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Original author's note:  
>  Translations:_
> 
> "Firete! Firete!" - The wires! The wires!  
> "Dya! Dya, nu! Dat! John!" - Mom! Mom, no! Dad! John!
> 
> _These words were borrowed from other fics, because as any Young Justice writer will tell you, it is **bitching difficult** to find Romani translators._
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Dick Grayson, Origins (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Original author's notes: Hey, guys! Sorry for going AWOL; I've been really busy lately. But I'm back on my bullshit! Thanks for the kudos!_

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 13, 2009, 09:41 PDT»**

Dick wakes with a scream caught in his throat.

It's not something he’s used to— he's never been prone to nightmares. Until last night, he wasn't afraid of anything.

But now all he can hear is the sound of wires snapping. All he can see is the terror in his mother's eyes as she realized they were falling.

All he can feel is the blood, drying on his hands and knees and costume.

A nurse hurries into Dick's room, gasping, "Oh, honey, are you alright?"

No. Of course he isn't. But he doesn't have the words to explain this— not in English— so he just nods and tries to look miserable, hoping she'll leave him alone. It's far too easy. She all but flees the premises at the sight of his damp eyes.

Slowly, Dick sits up, the scratchy hospital blanket falling away from him as he does. He chances a glance at his body, clad in oversized scrubs and a bomber jacket that doesn't belong to him. He looks smaller than he is in these clothes. Unreal, even.

Oh, how he _wishes_ that last night hadn't really happened.

He sits through a routine check of his vitals and a delivery of bland breakfast food. It tastes like ashes in his mouth, but Dick eats it because he needs something to do. As he idly toys with the cutlery, a conversation in the hallway reaches his ears.

"What are we going to do with him?" Says a nurse, the one who had first tended to him after his admittance.

"The ringmaster wants to take him back, but I don't think CPS is going to want that to happen. Am I right, Sharon?"

Another woman, someone he's never met before, replies, "That would be correct, Officer. As of today, Richard Grayson is a ward of the state. We'll find him a foster family as soon as possible."

The air seizes in Dick's lungs. _They're… they're not letting me go home? But I thought I was just staying here for the night! Because that man in the ambulance said I was "in shock!"_

No, he won't allow this. If he can't be with his parents, or his aunt and uncle, Dick is going to be with Pop Haly. Slowly, he puts his breakfast aside and starts unhooking himself from all the machines. They begin to shriek in alarm, alerting the trio of adults to his escape.

With gritted teeth, Dick forgoes caution and rips out the needle in his arm.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

 _Leaving,_ Dick doesn't say. He hops off the bed, weaves around the nurse, tucks and rolls underneath the outstretched hand of the police officer, and _bolts._

* * *

This city is _massive._

It's bigger than the last town they'd last been in, bigger than most of the places they've visited. Dick has only been running for five minutes, and he's already certain that he has no way of finding a path back to the hospital. That means he likely won't be able to find the circus, either, but he's got to try.

The acrobat darts around pedestrians, feeling the sting of hot pavement against his bare feet. It hurts. It burns. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focuses on the ache. The physical pain grounds him, reminding him of the dull throb in his palms and arms after every trapeze routine.

Wait. If he thinks about that, he’ll think about the _blood—_ and he _can’t—_

So absorbed is Dick in his avoidance that he forgets to watch where he's going.

He runs into someone— literally. He crashes into their chest and rebounds off, landing flat on his butt on the sidewalk. More shocked than hurt, he looks up, meeting the eyes of…

The man from the night before. The one who had held him as he cried, who had given him the jacket he's currently drowning in.

"Whoa, kid. Where's the fire?" He asks, extending his hand. Dick grasps it and allows the man to pull him to his feet.

"There is no fire," Dick says hesitantly. Is this one of those strange phrases with two meanings? He doesn't like those very much.

"Figure of speech. I was asking why you were in such a hurry. Is someone after you?" His voice takes on an edge of protectiveness.

"It is a policeman. He was talking with a woman. They said they wanted to take me away, that I couldn't go back to the circus. But I want to go back!"

The man places a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Listen, kid. How about you wait with me, and we talk to the cop together? We might be able to work something out."

Dick's knee-jerk reaction is to disagree, but then he takes a minute to think critically. Adults often ignore children. However, they listen to other adults. That means the man could convince the police to let Dick go home!

"Okay."

So they wait in silence, watching the people around them hurry to and fro. Cars speed past, blurring into lines of color and motion. On the ground, a group of ants pick up a leaf. Dick watches them struggle with the burden. The leaf is so heavy, so big compared to the bugs. How are they going to move it?

Following Dick's gaze, the man says, "It's amazing what you can accomplish with willpower, huh?"

"Willpower?" Dick echoes. He thinks he knows this term. Then again, it is two separate words mashed into one, so maybe he doesn't.

"Never giving up, basically. It might as well be my middle name."

There's a strange hint of humor in his voice when he says that. Dick wonders what the joke is.

"What _is_ your name?" He asks instead.

"I'm Hal. And you are…?"

"Richard. But everyone calls me Dick," Dick says.

(He wants to add _nice to meet you,_ but their first meeting wasn't that nice.)

Whatever Hal is about to respond with is interrupted by the arrival of the police officer and the woman called Sharon.

"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" She hisses. There's venom in her voice, thick and cloying under the veneer of concern.

The policeman takes a different approach. He glares at Hal and snaps, "What were you doing with this kid?"

"He ran into me," Hal replies blithely. "Colonel Hal Jordan, U.S. Air Force. You would be Officer…"

"Andrews." The suspicion has evaporated from his tone. Such is the power of a military rank.

"This isn't a meet-and-greet!" Sharon says. "This boy is in the custody of Child Protective Services. I'm sorry he bothered you, but we need to be leaving now."

"Yeah, about that. _Why_ is he being handed off to CPS? I was under the impression that plenty of people at the circus would be willing to take care of him." Hal asks, narrowing his eyes.

The officer and the woman look stricken. "How did you know he was from the circus?"

"He was there last night," Dick says quietly, his fingers twisting in the sleeves of the bomber jacket. "He gave me this."

"Oh," Sharon stammers. She's clearly been caught off guard, but rallies. "Well, sir, the circus is no place for a child. We can't leave him there."

And that… that hurts Dick so viscerally that English fails him. He ends up spitting a curse in Romani that would have made his mother wash his mouth out with soap.

(But no one understands him.

What a useless mercy.)

"So you're just going to give him to the first people that have space, huh?"

"Mr. Jordan, it's a bit more complex than that. See, there's a whole system—"

"Yeah, spare me the mission statement. I've seen what the _system_ does to kids," Hal retorts. "He doesn't have to go with a stranger; he can stay with me."

"Really?" Dick blurts.

"Believe it or not, I have a foster license. Check your records." The latter statement is directed at Sharon, who also seems to have lost her grasp on the English language.

"Alright… I’ll do that," she finally stutters. "But Richard, do you want to go with him?"

That's a stupid question. For better or worse, Hal is the only person he knows in this huge city. _And_ he's already proven himself to be kind.

"Yes," Dick says, taking one of Hal's hands. His fingers brush over the hard edges of a ring and settle easily into a warm, calloused palm. "I will go with Hal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Original author's notes: Please tell me what you thought!_
> 
> Now I've got something for you— Hal isn't actually a colonel. He's a captain. I'm not sure if the original author didn't know this, or if they "tossed canon in a blender" again. I have a feeling it's the latter, seeing as his flashback at the end of Chapter 1 is also out of line with canon.
> 
> (I will say this, though. It's DC. Canon shoots canon in the face.)


	3. Learning to Live With the Kid (That You Accidentally Acquired)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal and Dick get to know one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the first chapter by me. I hope I've done it justice; I really do like this idea.

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 13, 2009, 22:51 PDT»**

Once Hal is sure that Dick is asleep, he sequesters himself in the master bathroom and proceeds to freak the fuck out.

 _Oh my god. What the hell is wrong with me? I just impulse bought a child! A whole child! I can barely take care of myself! What am I_ **_doing?!_ **

His eyes catch sight of his reflection. He looks as frazzled and terrified as he is. Wonderful. Lord forbid he _pretends_ to have his life together.

The Lantern ring glows in accusation. Hell, if he tries, the pilot can almost hear Kilowog’s shouts echoing in his ears. _Your will is paramount, poozer! Stop crying!_

He takes one deep breath, and then another, and another, until he feels less likely to shake out of his own skin. _Alright, Jordan. So you have a kid now. You fought CPS and moved apartments and have a child relying on you for literally everything. But it's okay! It's like… part of your job. Yes. Protecting civilians._

Thinking about it like that makes Hal feel a tad better. 

Then a scream pierces the night, and all that hard-won calm goes right down the drain.

He bursts into Dick's room with a gatling gun construct half-materialized over his shoulder. It vanishes when he sees that there's no one in the room— Dick's only assailant is his mind.

Hal's mouth pinches in sympathy. Nightmares suck.

"Yes. They do," says Dick, making Hal realize he'd spoken aloud.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offers, sitting on the edge of the bed. God, a queen really is too big for a kid, but he hadn't been expecting a child when he'd bought this safehouse.

For a minute, he thinks the boy won't tell him. Then, haltingly… 

"I keep seeing it," he whispers. "They fall. Over and over. And my mother… she knew it was going to happen right before it did. It was in her eyes."

The pull of sympathy gets stronger. "I'm sorry, kid. I know that doesn't help, but I am."

"It was not your fault," Dick replies. "It was no one's fault."

Right. Preliminary results of the investigation indicate no foul play. The Graysons had fallen due to faulty equipment, apparently. He's going to follow the case ‘til the end— hell, he might even ask Barry for additional forensic analysis, just to make sure— but it seems like there’s nobody to blame for the deaths of Dick's family.

"Will you stay with me?"

The question throws Hal for a loop. Is Dick asking him if he still has a place in Hal's house? Because the answer is yes, no matter how confused the pilot is about it. And then it hits him. 

Dick wants to know if Hal will wait with him until he falls asleep.

"Sure, kid," he says. "I won't go anywhere."

So Dick scrubs his face with the oversized pajama sleeve and curls into a tight ball underneath the comforter, and Hal starts humming a soft lullaby. It's awful, because he doesn't remember half of it (and he can't carry a tune for the life of him, either).

But it works. Slowly, the tension drains from the boy's frame. He falls asleep before midnight.

As he watches the child, he realizes what he needs to do. Dick needs to be his priority— not his work at the airfield, not his heroism, and definitely not his hellish romantic life. It's the kid or nothing. 

“Ring,” Hal says, “contact the Watchtower.”

_CONTACT ESTABLISHED._

“Remove 05 — Green Lantern from active duty.”

_REASON?_

Hal glances at the sleeping boy again. For some reason, he wants to keep the truth to himself. “Tell them that the Corps needs me. No further justification.” 

(No one has any reason to disbelieve the excuse, after all.)

That done, Hal settles in for the night watch.

-

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 14, 2009, 09:13 PDT»**

Hal awakes to someone poking his cheek.

"Huh?" He mutters intelligently. The poking gets a little more insistent, so he sits up. Dick jerks away to avoid being clocked by the pilot. Oh. Hal had fallen asleep on the kid's bed (in a truly unflattering position, to boot).

"Hey, kiddo. What's up?"

"I am hungry," Dick says. "Do you have food?"

Surprisingly, the answer to that is yes. Though this had been a safehouse before he'd moved the kid in, he has a wide variety of shelf stable things, namely cereal and peanut butter.

Huh. Will the kid be okay with dry cereal? Hal asks as much and gets a tiny nod in response.

They tiptoe through their morning routines, and after the cereal has been eaten and their clothes have been changed, Hal calls Ferris Airfield. 

Carol picks up. "What do you want, Jordan?"

"My God, I didn't even open my mouth," Hal says incredulously. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Do you want that list in chronological or alphabetical order?"

"Fair enough. Listen, I need some time off. In fact, I'll take all of my time off."

"What? Did something happen?" Carol asks, concern creeping into her voice.

Once again, Hal decides not to say anything about Dick. "Family emergency. Don't really wanna talk about it."

"Alright. You have two months of PTO accumulated. Use them wisely. And Hal?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care."

Hal hangs up with a small smile on his face.

"Who was that?" Dick asks, tilting his head curiously.

"My boss. Her name's Carol. Say, kid, how do you feel about going shopping? I think we need some more groceries."

"Okay," Dick says. He hops off the counter and hurries to the entryway, where he jams his feet into a pair of light-up Skechers. It's cute. Really cute.

Hal realizes that he's becoming one of those annoying people that gushes about their child every waking moment, and he's had this kid for a goddamn day. What the _hell._

Shaking that thought aside, Hal ushers Dick out the door and to the parking lot, where his Volvo awaits. Dick clambers into the back seat, and Hal takes off the second he's settled.

His normally manic driving is somewhat tempered by his precious cargo, but his road rage is not. Halfway through swearing at some lady for not using her blinker, Hal spots Dick staring at him with wide eyes.

"Um, please forget you heard all that," he begs. _Way to be a responsible adult!_

"I didn’t understand most of it. You were talking very fast," Dick admits. 

For a second, the pilot is confused. He hadn't been speaking that quickly, had he? Then several other things start adding up. Dick has a slight accent and rarely uses contractions— and for that matter, when he’d been shouting for his family, the words weren’t familiar to Hal.

"English isn't your first language, is it?"

Dick shakes his head. "It's my fourth. Dya was teaching me, before the… before."

"Right, yeah, that's fine," Hal says, pulling into Wal-Mart. "We can work on it together."

They buy enough food to make a speedster jealous. Between a boatload of sugary junk and a single cabbage, Hal sneaks in a few ESL books.

_This parenting thing might not be as hard as I thought._

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 25, 2009, 12:42 PDT»**

One and a half weeks into his impromptu guardianship of Dick, Hal’s peace is shattered by someone kicking down the door to his apartment.

Dick jumps off the counter and takes refuge behind the kitchen island. Hal takes a moment to bemoan his life— seriously, they'd been doing so well! Dick had been settling in and CPS had backed the hell off and Hal has only had _three_ breakdowns in the past five days— and then he whirls around, a sword construct beginning to form in his hand. 

The light fizzles out when a deeply unimpressed Barry Allen solidifies before him.

“Jesus, Barry,” he mutters. “The hell did you do that for? Now I have to replace the lock.”

Barry glares through his windswept bangs. “Oh, it’s the lock you’re worried about? The lock? Not what you’ve put me, _your best friend,_ through—”

“Hal? What’s happening?” A tiny voice asks, effectively derailing the speedster’s rant.

When no answer comes, Dick peers around the kitchen island. He blinks in surprise at the newcomer, who is gaping at him like he’s an alien.

(Well. A different alien. Not a Kryptonian or a Thanagarian or a Martian— wow, Barry knows a lot of aliens for someone who rarely leaves the planet.)

“What’s the matter, Barry? Never seen a kid before?” Hal drawls. “I thought you _had_ one.”

“I know what children are, you Mountain Dew colored headass,” Barry snaps. “Why is there a kid here? Where did you find him? Wait, did you have a baby and not tell me?!”

Hal sighs. He loves Barry, but when that man gets going, nothing short of a Batglare™ can shut him up. “Kiddo, go to your room for a sec, okay? I have to talk to my friend here.”

Dick complies, though not without a curious look at the speedster. Satisfies, Hal faces Barry and starts talking.

"Alright, let's take this from the top. About two weeks ago, Shay broke up with me."

"Aw, really? And you liked her a lot, too!" Barry says. As he does, he darts toward the fridge, vibrates his hand through the stainless steel, and withdraws a cup of yogurt (which he promptly inhales).

"Couldn't you have done that with the door?" Hal whispers despairingly. "Anyway, I was gonna go drink my sorrows away, but then I figured I should _not_ do that. So I went to the circus instead."

Barry is eating all of Hal's ice cream now. "Uhuh. Still not seeing how this results in you acquiring a kid."

"I'm getting there! Listen, Dick— don't look at me like that! It's short for Richard!— was one of the acrobats there. His family tried a stunt and they… fell. Right in front of him."

"Oh," says Barry, no longer confused.

"Yeah," Hal mutters. "I sat with him until EMS arrived. They took him to the hospital, and I thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, I was on my way to a coffee shop, and he ran into me like he was fleeing the hounds of hell."

"Why?"

"Someone from social services was dumb enough to talk about tossing him into the system where he could overhear. He tried getting back to the circus and got lost, I guess. I, uh, felt bad about it. And I have a foster license, so I just… took him in."

Barry, for once, is silent. He taps the spoon against the lid of the tub for a full thirty seconds before speaking again.

"That's really nice of you, Hal. But why do you have a foster license? I mean, not that I'm complaining, but—"

"Because of you," Hal blurts. Then he wants to smack himself in the face and also die because Barry _wasn't supposed to know about that._

"Me?" The blond parrots. "Why?!"

Praying that Dick isn't listening, Hal explains, "You know how you guys almost didn't get custody of Wally?"

The speedster stills. The abuse his nephew suffered at the hands of his own parents— and the subsequent hell that was court proceedings— were not things he liked to be reminded of. Wincing at the dark look on his friend's face, Hal continues,

"It was dumb, since we live in different states, but I thought I could do something. That's why."

Barry's form blurs, and then there are arms wrapped tight around Hal's neck and a choked voice saying, "Thank you, Hal."

"No problem," he stammers, surprised by the sudden show of emotion.

The blond breaks away. "Well. Today was informative. I have to go now, but I'll be back! And hey, maybe next time I'll bring Wally! Then our kids can be friends, like us!"

"Yeah, that'd be nice… but listen, Bar, please don't tell anyone _else_ about this."

"Huh? You don't want the JLA to know?"

 _Batman probably does already,_ Hal thinks. Aloud, he says, "No. Things are hectic right now, and I can't exactly juggle this stuff with… the rest of my life."

"Fair enough. I won't say anything," Barry promises. "But, uh. They'll have to find out eventually."

"I know. That day isn't today, though. See ya."

Barry waves and vanishes, leaving a pile of upturned papers in his wake. Sighing, Hal picks them up, barricades the door, and calls for Dick.

(That night, he goes to reinforce the lock with a construct and finds that it has already been fixed. 

There's a little lightning bolt etched into the metal.

Hal smiles.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it live up to the preceding chapters? Let me know!


	4. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Wally West!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry for that unexpected hiatus.

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«July 15, 2009, 13:23 PDT»**

A month passes.

One month without his father’s all-encompassing hugs, without his mother’s soothing lullabies. One month without his cousin pranking him and his aunt and uncle playfully bickering over a plate of sarma.

One month with Hal, who definitely has a job outside of babysitting Dick, but who is sticking by his side instead of doing… whatever it is he does.

Dick is perched on the counter, swinging his legs. Hal is frying eggs at the stove and humming to himself. As Dick watches, he deftly flips the eggs into a plate.

“You want toast, kiddo?” 

In lieu of answering, Dick hops off the counter and makes his way to the toaster. He successfully wrangles the finicky apparatus into toasting three slices, nudging two towards Hal and keeping one for himself.

“Thanks,” Hal says, smiling.

Dick smiles back and then starts eating, unsure of what to do with himself. 

He knows, logically, that if he asks for something, it will be given to him. He knows that if he cries or rages or wakes up screaming, he won’t be alone. He knows that if he falls, Hal will probably catch him.

But even though a month— _a whole month_ — has passed, he doesn’t quite know how to interact with his new guardian.

Dick tends to hold his tongue around the man, restraining the tides of chatter that he had been known for at the circus. It’s not… he’s not shy, okay? He’s just being careful, just trying not to annoy the only person who’s willing to take care of him. Only an idiot would alienate their first and only connection to America.

As he breaks off a piece of toast, Hal starts to speak to him. 

“Hey, kiddo, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Dick’s hands freeze over his food. _Oh, no. What’s going on?_

He must’ve voiced his thought aloud, because Hal says, “I have a friend named Barry. You actually might remember him; he's the one that broke our door down that one time. Jackass... anyway, he has a nephew that’s around your age. Would you be willing to meet him?”

“Meet him? Why?” Dick asks. He doesn’t know this boy, and said boy has no reason to care about him, an orphaned circus brat who spends his time haunting a kindly man’s apartment and biting back words like it’s a competition.

"Eh, Barry and I thought it'd be fun," Hal says, shrugging. He’s trying hard to be noncommittal, but Dick can read him like a book. For some reason, he really wants this to happen. He wants Dick to meet this boy.

Dick pinches the toast between his fingers and decides to agree, if only so Hal will be happy.

“Okay. When?” 

Hal blinks at the eggs, almost like he hadn’t expected it to be so easy. “Uh, they’re in town today. Does 4:00 sound good to you?”

That’s… sooner than he was expecting, but Dick holds his breath for three counts and exhales for two. This will be just like any other performance. He can do it.

He can.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«July 15, 2009, 17:31 PDT»**

So, like Hal had wanted, the mythical boy and his uncle show up.

At 5:30 instead of 4:00.

The instant the doorbell rings, Hal is off like a shot. In one, smooth movement, he unlocks the door and drags a man with blond hair inside, yelling, “Goddammit, Barry, how are you always late? _How?!”_

“Ugh!” Barry wails. “Hal, get off!”

“No!”

"Let him go, Hal. It’s not his fault that he’s got no sense of time or direction," chirps a younger voice. Dick watches with bated breath as a tiny slip of a boy slinks around the squabbling men and into the apartment.

The boy is pale, with freckles like constellations splashed across his face. His eyes are wide and green. By far the most fascinating of his features, though, is his hair. It’s the brightest shade of red Dick has ever seen.

The boy notices Dick’s gaze and promptly bounds over to him. In a rush, he says, “Hi! You must be Dick! I’m Wally. It’s really nice to meet you!”

“Hello,” Dick manages. God, Wally can speak fast. He’s sure he only comprehended the redhead because of the English lessons Hal has been giving him. Shaking off his surprise, he puts on a show-worthy smile and squares his shoulders. 

Hal releases Barry and comes to stand by Dick's side. "Hey, Wally. I’d like to thank you again for all the effort _you_ put into being on time."

"Someone has to," Wally snickers. 

Dick furrows his brows. Why does it feel like he's missing something? He wants to ask what the joke is, but the words wither and die in his throat.

Unaware of the acrobat's turmoil, Hal ruffles Dick's hair. To Barry, he says, "Should we go get food?"

"Are you paying?"

"Like hell!"

Barry laughs and spins on his heel, leaving their door ajar in his haste to get down the hallway. Hal follows, and so does Wally. It’s Dick who lingers, quietly shutting and locking the door behind them.

-

They go to McDonald’s. Dick has never been there before, but it clearly isn’t Wally’s first time. The boy orders a literal table’s worth of food— as does his uncle, who practically inhales a large order of fries upon receiving it.

“Do they always do that?” Dick whispers to Hal. 

The pilot nods solemnly. With a dainty bite of his burger, he replies, “It’s both impressive and disgusting, isn’t it?”

Dick shrugs helplessly and eats a chicken nugget. It doesn’t taste that good, but he doesn’t have it in him to complain. 

In the middle of his munching, Wally approaches him. He’s absentmindedly twirling a straw between his fingers. “Hi again,” he says, “Um, Uncle Barry was wondering what you wanted to do after this.”

“What do you want to do?” Dick asks, parrying the indirect question with one of his own.

Wally taps his chin with the straw, clearly deep in thought. After less than fifteen seconds, he exclaims, “Oh, I think there’s a park nearby! Do you want to go there?”

Parks. Dick likes parks and playgrounds. He and his cousin John used to dare each other to swing as high as they could before leaping off. The adults in the circus used to worry about them, but… well, until that last trick, the Graysons had always landed on their feet.

His face must do something odd at the memory, because Wally hurriedly backpedals. “Or not! We don’t have to go there!”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll tell Hal.”

Dick hops off the chair and goes to the drink station, where Hal— apparently determined to overdose on Diet Coke— is refilling his cup for the third time. He tugs on the sleeve of the man’s jacket to get his attention.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Hal asks.

“Wally says he wants to go to a park. Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, there’s one not far from here. Let’s put the rest of the food in to-go bags and start walking.”

Barry cheerfully packs up the food and bundles Dick and Wally through the door. Hal brings up the rear, slurping his newest soda. The two adults start chatting over their charges’ heads, leaving them in an awkward silence.

Dick fidgets with the hem of his shirt. How is he supposed to talk to Wally? Holding a conversation used to be easy for him— Dya had always said that he could charm anyone with his bright smile and playful chatter. 

But now he’s all alone, and he doesn’t have much to smile about.

Dick abruptly recalls that he’s supposed to be performing and assumes a neutral expression. He’s just in time for their arrival to the park.

“You guys go have fun,” Barry says. “Us old folks are going to sit on this bench and talk about boring things. Like work.”

Wally snorts at this. “Uhuh, _boring_ things. Come on, Dick! Let’s go to the playground!”

His hand twitches like he’s about to extend it towards Dick, but he drops it just as quickly. Dick blinks at the space where Wally’s fingers were and wordlessly follows him towards the swingset. To his surprise, the redhead keeps walking, bypassing the playground entirely. He comes to a stop beneath a tree, and the smile fades from his face.

“Is something wrong?” Dick asks.

"Um, not really," says Wally, sitting cross-legged in the patchy grass. "I just… I wanted you to know it’s okay to not be fine."

Dick tilts his head in confusion and mirrors the other boy. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I know I just met you, but I noticed that you’re, uh… trying to seem happier than you are?” Wally stammers. “And, like, this isn’t like an attack or anything! I just mean that if you’re sad, you can be sad. You don’t have to pretend for anyone.”

Dick thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe. He hadn’t thought he’d been doing that badly at acting, but if someone he’s only known for an hour can see through his facade, he clearly needs to step it up.

Unless… he really doesn’t have to?

He lets his forced calm dissipate, asking, “How did you know?”

Wally inclines his shoulder in half-shrug. “I have some experience with faking it. It’s… it wasn’t exactly the same, but a while ago, I wasn’t happy, either.”

“But you’re better now,” Dick observes. “What did you do?”

“Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris— that’s his wife— helped a lot. Oh, and also the Flash! I owe a lot to him for a lot of reasons,” Wally says, beaming.

“Who is the Flash?”

Wally sits bolt upright, shock scrawled across his face. “You don’t know him? He’s the best hero ever! Do you at least know the rest of the Justice League?”

Dick makes a so-so motion with his hand. He has vague memories of hearing about a legion of superheroes, led by a man that was more myth than reality. Superman, they called him. But Dick hadn’t paid that much attention when John was explaining it— he’d been too busy pouting about not being allowed to try the quadruple somersault in their upcoming show.

“I have to tell you everything,” Wally crows, startling Dick out of his reverie. “Okay, so there’s Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. They’re the leaders of the League! They formed a team with the Flash— my hometown’s hero— Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter.”

“And who are they?” Dick says warily.

Wally sucks in a lungful of air and starts talking. He tells Dick about Superman and Martian Manhunter’s alien origins, about Batman’s intelligence and resourcefulness, about Wonder Woman’s ethereal powers. He explains the existence of Atlantis and the Green Lantern Corps. Throughout it all, the redhead looks so incandescently happy that Dick’s own spirits lift.

(Maybe heroes didn’t have to save someone to help them.)

Wally’s rambling is interrupted by a sharp whistle. The boys immediately glance back toward Hal and Barry. Hal waves and motions for them to come back.

Slowly, Dick stands, stretching to return the blood flow to his limbs. Wally bounces in place and makes to run towards his uncle. But something stops him in his tracks.

He turns to Dick, his green eyes shining. It looks like he wants to ask a question.

“What?” Dick asks. In his head, he can hear his mother calling him rude, but that intense stare is unnerving.

“Can we be friends?” Wally blurts. 

The words trip out of his mouth in half a second, but Dick understands. A warm, happy feeling expands in his chest.

“Sure.”

Wally’s face splits into a blinding grin. Once more, he reaches out his hand, ready to whisk Dick back to their waiting guardians.

As Dick takes it, a crack in his heart fixes itself.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«July 15, 2009, 19:46 PDT»**

After they bid Barry and Wally goodbye, Hal asks Dick, “How did it go with Wally?”

“I liked him,” Dick admits. Overwhelmed by sudden giddiness, he does a cartwheel on the sidewalk, coming up with an exuberant grin. Hal smiles in return. The relief in his eyes is only surpassed by his joy.

“I’m glad. What did you guys talk about?”

“He told me about heroes,” the acrobat chirps in excitement. “Do you know the Justice League?”

Hal starts coughing. After the momentary fit has passed, he wheezes, “I sure do. Who’s your favorite member?”

“Batman!” Dick says brightly.

 _“Batman?”_ Hal parrots. 

(Had Dick been paying closer attention, he would’ve seen the sheer incredulity on the pilot’s face. As it is, he remains unaware of the heart attack he’s given his guardian.)

“Yeah! He is very cool and mysterious, and he protects the city even though he has no powers!”

Hal nods slowly. “I see. I’ll be sure to… remember that. Say, how do you feel about the others? Like, uhh… Green Lantern. Do you like him?”

Dick thinks back to his conversation with Wally. He’d only mentioned Green Lantern twice: once to explain the nature of the hero’s powers, and another time to say,

_“He’s best friends with U— um, with the Flash! They team up sometimes!”_

Well, Flash is Wally’s favorite, so if Flash likes Green Lantern, then surely Dick can assume that…

“He's cool too. Hey, I want to race you back home!”

Without waiting for a response, Dick whirls around and bolts down the sidewalk. Hal takes a moment to pump a fist in triumph before chasing after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things to note about this AU...
> 
> 1\. Dick's uncle was also killed in the fall.  
> 2\. Wally already has his powers, but I'm using a different origin story for him than YJ canon is. This is a universe in which he was struck by lightning.  
> 3\. In this world, the Justice League gradually formed after a series of small scale team-ups, rather than due to an alien invasion.  
> 4\. Hal is Earth's only Green Lantern (for now).
> 
> Now, here come the chapter specific notes. 
> 
> 1\. I know Dick is the Bat Clan's resident sunshine boy, but things definitely weren't easy for him immediately after his parents' deaths.  
> 2\. Hal is a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for, and he would definitely notice Dick's gradual slide into depression. He would also recall Barry's offhand comment about their kids being friends like them.  
> 3\. Wally may also be sunshine incarnate, but he's been through a lot in the comics. YJ canon seems to have retconned the implications of abuse and neglect from Rudy and Mary, though.  
> 4\. I think that Dick would like Batman even if Bruce wasn't his dad, soooo... there you go.


	5. Green Lantern's Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are many firsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the long wait— this chapter just didn't want to be written.

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«August 15, 2009, 06:48 PDT»**

Hal kills the engine and twists around to look at Dick. “Are you ready?”

“Not really,” the acrobat replies, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. 

Hal sighs. It’s Dick’s first day of school— and he means Dick's first day of school _ever,_ because traveling with a circus meant that you didn’t get a standardized education. As it is, Dick had been excited when they were shopping for school supplies, but now that they’re in the parking lot of Coast City Elementary, he’s hesitating.

Which makes sense. This situation isn’t ideal— Dick was never supposed to stay in America. Also, the only kid he’s spoken to in the past few months is Wally West. 

And Wally is _a genius_ with _superpowers_ that _runs through several states_ if he wants to hang out with Dick.

Sometimes, Hal thinks he’s bitten off more than he can chew. But he owes it to the kid to not be completely garbage at this whole adulting thing, so he says, “I know this is scary, Dick. But I promise that everything will work out. Just be yourself, and all those California girls will love you.”

“I feel like you just made a joke, but I don’t understand what it was,” Dick says slowly. 

“There’s a song called California Girls— you know what? Never mind. Do you trust that I’ll be there for you, in brightest day or blackest night?”

“Yes…”

“Then believe me when I say that you’re going to be A-OK.”

Dick worries his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. He eventually unlocks the door handle and hops out of the car, murmuring, "Alright."

“I’ll see you at 2:00. Have fun,” Hal says warmly.

Dick nods, turns, and walks into the building. Hal waits until he’s safely inside before restarting the car and driving to Ferris Airfield. 

Today’s not just Dick’s first day, after all. It’s Hal’s first day back from leave.

Hal strides into the building like a soldier storming the battlefield. In doing so, he runs right into Carol. With a surprised hiss, he backs up, and his gaze settles squarely on the unimpressed curve of her mouth.

“Jordan,” Carol greets. She looks at him over the top of her sunglasses, drawling, “I was almost starting to miss you.”

“I could turn right back around and go—” Hal starts, but Carol slaps him in the chest with a thick folder before he can finish the sentence.

“No way, fly boy. You’re grounded, and you’ve got paperwork. Get in there.”

Hal groans theatrically and ambles into his office. He spends the next couple of hours slogging through a mountain of paperwork. It’s repetitive and mind-numbing, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world, because doing it means that he’s one step closer to flying again.

Hal’s love of flight is something his fellow Leaguers don’t get. He thinks it has less to do with several of them being earthbound and more to do with their mindset. They don’t understand the freedom of flying, not like he does.

He smiles at the specs he’s reading. _Dick_ understands. Hal has already had to coax the boy down from bookshelves and cabinets; he has an uncanny talent of finding the highest possible perch in a room and devising a way to flip onto and off of it. One of these days, Hal’s gonna find a way to sneak him onto the airfield and into a plane.

But that’s a plan he’ll have to figure out another time, ‘cause right now, his boss is glaring at him like she’s seconds from going Star Sapphire and obliterating the building.

-

At noon, Hal heads out, giving Carol a sarcastic wave on the way to his car. He has two hours before he has to pick Dick up, and in those two hours, he needs to meet with the social worker handling the kid’s case.

Hal scowls as he plugs the directions into his GPS. He remembers how snappish and unyielding the woman had been during their first meeting. If Hal hadn’t pulled his military rank, he’s sure she would’ve been even ruder. But if he wants to keep Dick, she’s an evil he’s got to face.

Ten minutes later, he steps into Sharon Wilkerson's office and gives her the most insincere smile he possibly can. “Ms. Wilkerson.”

“Mr.— sorry, _Colonel_ Jordan,” she returns. “What would you like to discuss?”

Hal takes a deep breath. Once it’s out in the open, there’s no taking it back. But like every Green Lantern before him, he dives in headfirst and says—

“Adoption paperwork.”

“You want to adopt Richard Grayson?” Sharon stammers, any semblance of professionalism dropping off her face. 

_Why the hell does she sound so confused?_ Hal is _offended._ Does she think someone like him isn’t suited to being a parent? Or is she prejudiced against Dick, because he’s Romani, because he was born overseas and raised in a circus?

Whatever her problem is, Hal isn’t about to back down. In the firmest tone he can manage, he says, “Yes.”

“Okay, um, I’ll see if I can get that for you. Please excuse me,” the woman says. She hurries into the adjoining room and returns with a stack of papers.

Hal listens intently as she explains what to do and where to sign. He keeps the papers tucked close to his chest as he returns to the school.

Dick barrels into the backseat with the finesse of an elephant in a china shop. “Hi, Hal!”

“Hey, kiddo. How’d it go!”

“Really good!” Dick chirps. “I think I made a friend!”

“Did you? Tell me all about it,” Hal laughs. He spins the wheel and takes them back home, feeling something warm fizzle and pop in his chest.

(At night, when the acrobat is sleeping, he hides the papers in the drawer containing his charging lantern. It’s too soon to ask, but maybe someday, Dick will be willing to sign his name on a dotted line, right next to Hal’s.)

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«September 17, 2009, 21:07 PDT»**

The next month passes with little fanfare. 

Well, more than a little. Dick finds new and creative ways of getting into trouble with Wally and his friend from school, Jennie. Meanwhile, Hal comes up with inventive ways to annoy Carol (although he maintains that the plane that blew up wasn’t his fault, and _jeez, Carol, can you at least pretend to care that I almost got incinerated?)._

Right now, though, the only thing in danger of burning is his dinner. 

_“I hear the drums echoing tonight. But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation,”_ Hal warbles, quickly taking a pot of macaroni and cheese off the stove. _“She's coming in, 12:30 flight. The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation…”_

He nearly drops the pot and curses. “Shit. Um, where was I? _I stopped an old man along the way, hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies. He turned to me as if to say, ‘Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you.’”_

Hal is just about to get to the good part when he hears Dick gasp in horror. Surprised, he hurries into the living room.

“Dick? What’s wrong?”

In lieu of answering, the boy points at the TV, where the nine o’clock news is playing. Hal turns and blanches.

“—those just tuning in, the Silverberg Memorial Bridge is on the brink of collapse,” says a frazzled anchorman. “Emergency personnel are unable to help the people trapped on the bridge—”

 _Okay, I’ve heard enough,_ Hal thinks, his gaze dropping to his ring. He hasn’t been Green Lantern in a long time (much to the frustration and suspicion of other Justice Leaguers), but he can’t let this continue.

“Kiddo, I just remembered I have to go do something. Right now, immediately. Dinner is on the counter, and oh my god, please turn off the stove,” the pilot says in a rush. He doesn’t wait for Dick to respond before grabbing his keys and rushing out of the apartment.

Hal is soaring into the sky and speeding towards the Silverberg Bridge in less than a minute. As soon as he arrives, the structure gives way, and cars start to careen into the water below.

The hero raises his hands and visualizes a giant plank. The construct materializes in a blaze of emerald light, fits itself underneath the bridge, and pushes _up,_ halting the vehicles’ slide into the unforgiving river.

Hal floats into hearing distance and shouts, “If you can drive, go!”

No one needs any further instructions. They floor it. Hal forms a claw-like construct to pluck the remaining cars off the wrecked asphalt and sets them on stable ground. Once he’s sure everyone is clear, he lets the first construct dissipate. 

The bridge crumbles into the water.

He swears to himself and zips over to a nearby fire truck. “Everyone’s okay, right? I got here in time?”

“Yeah, you did,” a paramedic stammers. “Thank you so much, Green Lantern!”

“No problem. Listen, I have to go—” _because I just left Dick alone in my apartment with no explanation, what the fuck—_ “so take care, okay?”

He flies back into the city, leaving nothing but a green afterimage in his wake.

-

After confirming that Dick hadn’t set anything (including himself) on fire in his absence, Hal pries open his bedroom window, swoops in, and touches down lightly on the carpet. He leans against the wall, exhaling through gritted teeth. That hadn’t been an intergalactic crisis, but it was no cakewalk, either. _Nothing’s_ easy when there are lives on the line.

 _POWER LEVELS AT 60%,_ says the ring.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the fucking lantern,” Hal mutters. He circles the bed, drops to his knees, and pulls the lantern out of the drawer. In doing so, he accidentally dislodges the bundle of adoption paperwork. 

_Shit,_ Hal thinks. He sets the lantern aside and hurriedly starts dumping the papers back into the drawer.

So absorbed is he in his task that he doesn’t notice Dick entering the room.

“…Hal?”

Hal shrieks and nearly makes a fleet of fighter jets materialize in his bedroom. Dick yelps in response. The two of them stare at each other with wild eyes, Dick plastered against the door and the pilot flat on his ass on the floor.

“This is not what it looks like,” Hal stammers. 

_INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM WATCHTOWER,_ the ring cheerfully informs him. Hal takes it off and chucks it into the lantern, hissing, “Traitor.”

Dick gets his voice back in order to say, “You... You’re the Green Lantern.”

“No, I’m a really invested fan!” 

But Dick is staring at him with obvious admiration, and Hal is physically incapable of lying on the fly. “This is exactly what it looks like. I’m the Green Lantern. No evil shall escape my sight, or whatever.”

The kid— his kid— grins brightly and bounds towards him, chattering a mile a minute. Hal only manages to catch the words “superhero” and “Justice League” and “actually cooler than Batman” before he’s got an armful of excited acrobat.

Well. He definitely won’t deny that last one.

Hal closes his eyes and hides his smile in Dick’s hair. _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jennie mentioned here is actually Jinx from Teen Titans. I was originally going to use Garfield or Victor, but then I remembered that they appear in Young Justice (even if the showrunners completely changed Garfield's backstory...). 
> 
> The song Hal is singing in the second half of the chapter is Africa by Toto. The "good part" is the iconic chorus.
> 
> Next up: a time skip!


	6. What Could Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approximately five years after the end of Chapter 5, Dick starts wondering if he can be a hero.
> 
> (Spoiler alert: someone else sure thinks so.)
> 
> CW: Harassment and use of the word "g*psy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: I probably won't be able to update next week. My apologies in advance.

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 13, 2014, 13:58 PDT»**

In a business-like manner, Dick whispers, “Tell me, Jennie. On a scale of one to ten, how loud do you think Mr. Ave is going to scream when he opens his desk?”

“Seven, at least,” she replies. “Oh, shit, he’s going for it. Look innocent!”

The pair immediately separate and pretend to be absorbed in watching the clock. Twenty seconds later, a frog jumps onto their English teacher’s shirt, and he shrieks loud enough to wake the dead.

Dick dissolves into laughter, and their peers start whipping out their phones to document the glorious moment. Then the final bell begins to ring, drowning out Mr. Ave’s shrill cries.

As much as he’d like to stay and revel in the man’s humiliation, Dick’s got places to be. He grabs his bag and darts through the door. Jennie is a half-step behind him, muffling her cackles with her oversized sleeve.

“His face,” she wheezes.

“I know. Oh my god, we have to screenshot someone’s Snap story. For posterity.”

“You say that like I’m ever gonna forget this moment.”

They laugh again and walk through the double doors. Dick tilts his face toward the sunshine, singing, “Spring break is here! Whatever shall we do with all this free time?”

“Cause chaos,” Jennie says sagely. 

“That’s what I was thinking of!” Dick gasps. “You know me so well, Jennie Singh.”

The girl links her pinkie with his and swings their hands back and forth. “Of course I do. Anyway, what should we do first? I vote we dye our hair and egg someone’s house. Not necessarily in that order.”

“No on the eggs; I don’t like wasting food. But are you seriously thinking of dyeing your hair?”

“Yeah, I wanna turn it pink. And I bet my parents won’t even notice if I do.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. Jennie’s parents do not seem like nice people, to put it mildly. He’s about to suggest they unleash frogs in her house when his toe catches on an uneven section of pavement. Jennie steps aside and lets him faceplant on the concrete.

“Ow, Jennie, why?” The acrobat hisses, getting to his hands and knees. He’d complain more, but the twenty dollar bill lying half a foot away from his fingers derails his train of thought. “Hey, free money!”

“Look at that. Next thing you know, you’ll have a bank account with six figures in it, and you’ll forget all about me,” Jennie drawls.

“Six figures? What am I, Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Dick snickers. “Then again, maybe I’d have that much money if I played the lottery.”

“Don’t they say you have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning than of winning the lotto?”

“One, I actually know someone who’s been struck by lightning, and two, I’ve been _weirdly_ lucky lately. Like, last week I aced a test on a book I didn’t bother reading. And yesterday, the vending machine gave me three bags of chips. I could totally win the lottery.”

“Huh. That’s… something.”

“Something _amazing,”_ Dick adds, stuffing the bill into his pocket. “Anyway, you wanna come over?”

“I can’t. Sorry.” 

“Aw, why you gotta be like that, baby?” Someone wheedles. 

For a moment, Dick thinks the sleazy comment is directed at Jennie, and his temper flares. Then he glances up and spots a group of guys loitering on the steps of a woman’s apartment. She’s clearly trying to escape, but her hands are shaking, and she can’t unlock her front door.

Okay, Dick’s officially mad. “Leave her alone!” He yells.

The leader of the trio turns to face them, squints, and says, “What are you— ten? Fuck off, kid.”

“You first!” Jennie replies, because much like Dick, she seems to have misplaced her self-preservation skills.

Abandoning the woman, the three men storm towards them. The leader pulls a knife and levels it at Dick’s face. The boy takes a step back to avoid being stabbed in the eye.

“Yeah, that’s right. You should be scared.”

With a mocking huff, Dick ducks underneath his attacker’s outstretched arm, spins around, and rams his fist into the man’s kidney. Beside him, Jennie ditches her backpack and handsprings past the other two thugs. They slam their heads together in their attempt to catch her.

Dick cheerfully kicks the leader between the shoulder blades. When he crumples to the ground, the acrobat chirps, _“You_ should learn to respect women. And by the way, I don’t do fear.”

Jennie retrieves her bag, and they run away before the men can get their wits together, laughing all the while.

* * *

On Oa, someone takes notice.

* * *

Hal is waiting in the kitchen when Dick barrels through the door, his body still humming with adrenaline.

“Hey, kiddo. Care to explain why I got a call from your principal saying that you allegedly put a frog in a teacher’s desk?”

“Well,” Dick huffs, “he called me a gypsy to my face and told Jennie she was being oversensitive when she said it was a slur.”

“In that case, he deserved it. Great job,” Hal says, clapping the acrobat on the shoulder.

Dick grins and drops his backpack on the kitchen island. “We knew you’d understand. I hope the school hasn’t figured out Jennie gave them your number as an emergency contact, though.”

“It’s been half a year, and they haven’t said anything. Anyway, why are you so out of breath?”

“Um… I might’ve gotten into a little fight.”

“What?” Hal exclaims. “Dick, I know I taught you self-defense, but that’s not an excuse to—”

“These guys were harassing some lady! Jennie and I just wanted them to leave her alone!” Dick protests. “Come on, we’re both gymnasts. They never would’ve hit us.”

Hal takes a seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I’d be a hypocrite if I told you to walk away from dangerous situations, but I can tell you this, Dick— don’t get cocky. Things can spin out of your control in an instant.”

“I get it,” Dick says, his shoulders slumping. “I’m not Wally. Or Roy.”

Wally is Dick’s other best friend, and he had come hand in hand with Roy Harper, the son of some billionaire from Star City. It had taken Dick only four months to realize that the two of them were Kid Flash and Speedy, respectively. He initially hadn’t told them he’d figured it out— watching them make up ridiculous excuses for their bruises and horrendous sleep schedules was hilarious— but after he’d started laughing at a particularly awful lie, the jig was up.

And from there, things sort of… spiraled. 

Suddenly, Dick was privy to the secrets of the Arrow and Flash Families as well as Hal’s, and all the heroes had offered to teach him a trick or two. Hal had walked him through the basics of boxing, Wally and Barry had refined his natural agility with high-speed sparring, and Oliver and Roy had taught him how to build and disarm bombs (whether or not Hal actually knows about that is another story, but Dick won’t tell if the Arrows won’t). Throughout it all, though, the elder heroes had stressed that Dick shouldn’t use his newfound skills unless he absolutely had to.

 _But,_ Dick thinks as Hal ruffles his hair and says something placating, _what if I_ did _become a hero?_

_What would happen then?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Jinx... she's canonically Indian, and although her powers are listed as probability manipulation, I've given her the ability to absorb others' bad luck (mostly because I thought it was funny).
> 
> On the identity situation... this is tricky, but the way I've set it up, the Justice League as a whole still doesn't know that Dick exists. Barry and Oliver know because the kids are friends. Bruce knows because he's Bruce. And everyone else thinks that Hal inexplicably went off the deep end for a few months in 2009.
> 
> They'll figure things out soon enough.


	7. Bombs and Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes sideways, and Hal's life is thrown into jeopardy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for your patience!

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 15, 2014, 22:26 PDT»**

Hal and Dick are building a tower of cards when the call comes.

Muttering unsavory things under his breath, the pilot shuffles backwards and snatches his phone off the sofa with two fingers. Superman’s logo is flashing on the screen.

 _Why?_ Hal bemoans. But he answers the call with a jaunty, “You’ve reached the CEO of Green Lantern, Inc.! No evil shall escape my sight!”

“Hello, Hal. You’re needed for a mission,” Clark replies, ignoring the joke.

“What mission?” Hal asks. He wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder and stares at the cards, trying to remember whether or not he’d called off work. It was Dick’s spring break, for god’s sake; they were supposed to do something fun together!

Clark launches into a long-winded explanation. Hal catches something about Wonder Woman, a planet at the edge of Sector 2814, and an old trading contract with Mars, but that’s the extent of the information he absorbs. The Kryptonian is _so very easy_ to tune out.

“…so, when are you coming?” Clark asks.

With a despondent glance at Dick, Hal says, “I can be there at 11:30. Please tell me this isn’t going to take long.”

“One day. Scout’s honor.”

“Fine. Tell ‘em to beware my power— Green Lantern’s light.”

He hangs up. 

Scowling, Dick flicks the tower of cards, causing it to collapse. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, kiddo. Duty calls,” Hal replies. He stands and starts cleaning up the living room. As he beats a pillow into shape, he realizes that he’s in a sticky situation.

 _Who’s going to take care of Dick while I’m gone? Carol would never agree to watch a kid. What about Barry? No, he and Wally went on a worldwide race for his spring break, and Iris flew out to meet them in Frankfurt. Ollie? Oh, no, dammit— he, Roy, and Dinah are in the Bahamas. Because all of them_ actually applied for leave _._

_The only other Leaguer who can possibly babysit him is… Batman._

Hal’s face screws up like he’s bitten into a lemon. The Dark Knight might’ve adopted a child, but that doesn’t mean he’s magically started liking Hal. And the pilot isn’t willing to subject Dick to unwarranted disdain for a day.

 _Aw, hell. Dick’s thirteen, and we won’t be gone long. He doesn’t need a babysitter. What can he possibly do in 24 hours— blow up the apartment complex?_ Hal thinks.

“Hey, Dick, come here for a second!” 

Dick bolts into the room, nearly tripping over the hems of his pajamas as he does. “Yeah?”

“Okay, so… you’re technically a teenager now. I’m pretty sure I can leave you alone for one day. Do you think you can hold down the fort while I’m on—” and here he has to rifle through his short-term memory for the name of the planet they’re going to— “Sonder?”

“I can handle it,” Dick says. “Just, um. Be careful.”

“Oh, I always am,” Hal laughs, ruffling his kid’s hair.

* * *

**«Exalt, Sonder, Far End of Sector 2814»**

**«March 19, 2014, 02:38 PDT»**

Hal is a filthy fucking liar. For that matter, so is Clark, but if Dick is going to fight one of them for this, it’s definitely not gonna be the Kryptonian.

 _Focus, Jordan,_ he tells himself as he hastily forms a shield construct. _If you can’t keep your shit together, you don’t deserve this ring._

“I wish that it hadn’t turned out this way” Diana murmurs, taking cover behind a stone column. “Things were going so well!”

“Yeah, for five minutes. Then it all went to hell,” mutters Hal.

**Approximately 70 Hours Ago…**

Upon landing on Sonder, the three heroes are given the royal treatment.

Their hosts— Sondans, as they’re called— are incredibly accommodating. They stay close at hand, answering Clark’s curious questions and offering to carry Diana’s weapons. Hal finds himself smiling as he translates their guttural language. These people are nice, even if they are rather odd-looking. 

The Sondans are nine feet tall, with six limbs, three eyes, and gray skin. They compensate for their dull coloration with elaborate robes. The one leading their party (Hal is about 96% sure she’s the queen, but he’s not confident enough in his assumption to verbally address her as such) is clad in shimmering teal and gold gauze.

“We have heard many tales from Earth,” she says, ushering the trio into the palace’s dining hall. “It would be an honor to establish an alliance.”

Diana straightens, easily slipping into her role as ambassador. “Oh, it would be our pleasure. Why don’t we discuss a contract over dinner?”

“An excellent plan, Wonder Woman. May I…”

As they start talking business, Hal lets his attention drift. His ring continues translating the conversation, but the words flow into one ear and out the other. Politics are not his forte. He’s more of a _punch first, ask questions later_ kind of guy.

Servants scurry around, setting the table and piling the dishes high with brightly colored food. Hal scans it all with the ring and determines that while he and Diana can eat it without issue, over a dozen of these ingredients are deadly for Kryptonians.

“What’s it like to feel human?” Hal asks Clark. He shoots Hal a dirty look, but the pilot merely grins and pops a berry into his mouth. 

_Batman would get such a kick out of this. I almost feel sorry that he couldn’t come,_ Hal thinks. He plucks a silver goblet off the table and raises it to his mouth. Over its rim, he spots two Sondans— both clad in blood-red garments— furtively slinking out of the room.

He sets the drink down. Logically, there’s nothing wrong with two people leaving a party. But something about them hadn’t felt right.

Hal’s just not sure what.

-

He gets his answer during a tour of the palace.

The queen is mid-sentence, gesturing at a painting, when her head pops like a balloon. Behind her is another Sondan, their red robes streaming through the air like fire as they lower the blaster in their hand.

The queen’s massive body hits the ground. 

All hell breaks loose.

One of the queen’s followers takes out the person that had assassinated her, only to get run through by a spear. Two feet away from the League members, a Sondan is consumed by acid. Hal encases himself, Diana, and Clark in a glowing bubble as bullets join the blades and bombs. 

“What just happened?” Clark says.

Hal closes his eyes and listens to the words filtering through his ring. “They’re saying something about… a rightful ruler? That the queen was a bastard? ‘The Knights of the Blood Moons’ are staging a full-blown coup!”

“As much as it pains me to flee, this is not our war. We need to get out of here,” Diana decrees, unsheathing her sword. “Lower the shield, Green Lantern.”

He does, and they dive into the fray.

* * *

Unfortunately, leaving Sonder wasn’t as simple as they thought it would be. 

They’ve been pinned on this goddamn planet for just over three days, and Hal is on the verge of panicking. Dick has been _alone_ this entire time, with no way of knowing whether or not his guardian’s even _alive._

 _Not that I’m planning on dying,_ Hal thinks grimly. He forms a tank construct and lays down heavy fire. Beside him, Diana abandons her cover and blocks an energy blast with one of her bracelets. In the sky, Clark tears through a battalion of airships.

“Leave one for us!” Diana shouts. Hal blinks in confusion, unsure as to why she’s giving the order, but then he realizes that _their_ ship has been set on fire, and his ring probably doesn’t have enough power to ferry all three of them back home.

Clark heeds her command and darts into one of the remaining ships. He tosses its pilot and crew out of the airlock and spins the machine around. Exchanging a glance, Diana and Hal leap into the air and soar towards their getaway vehicle.

 _POWER LEVELS CRITICAL,_ warns the ring. Hal winces; make that ‘probably’ a ‘definitely.’ If Clark hadn’t gotten the ship… 

He doesn’t get to finish his thought. An energy blast— one several times more powerful than the ones Diana had been deflecting— shatters the barrier of green light that normally surrounds him and slams into the space between his shoulder blades.

Hal shrieks.

_POWER LEVELS AT 0._

His transformation dissolves, and gravity takes hold of him. Crying out in alarm, Diana dives, snags the falling pilot by the wrist, and pulls him into the ship alongside her.

“Green Lantern, are you alright?” Clark demands.

Hal wants to answer. He really does. But the pain flowing through his veins is making it hard to think, and he mutters something incomprehensible before blacking out.

His eyes snap open an indeterminate amount of time later. Snatches of conversation fly over his head, almost too fast for him to follow.

“—how did it even get through his shields? I thought Lanterns were supposed to be resilient!”

“I don’t know, but it’s imperative that we get him to Doctor Mid—”

“—flying as fast as I—”

“—Watchtower!”

Upon spotting the satellite, Clark zips out of the airlock, frantically motioning for someone to open the hangar.

Diana takes the controls and guides the ship into the Watchtower. As soon as they dock, she kicks open the door, screaming, “Prepare the med bay! Go!”

A kid dressed in blue spins on his heel and bolts.

 _That was Batman’s partner, wasn’t it?_ Hal thinks deliriously. _He’s tiny. Just like…_

_Dick. My son. WAIT, MY SON!_

He feels himself go weightless and realizes Diana is carrying him. But he doesn’t need to be _coddled._ He needs to tell them that—

_Dick doesn’t know what happened! Find him, please!_

The plea gets caught in his throat, and Hal sinks into the embrace of oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce adopted Jason a year ago. He has yet to introduce him to any of the other League kids (because Jason is an Angry Baby). But he still let him become Bluejay, so Jay's got that going for him, which is nice.
> 
> Also, I typically contend that Dick and Jason have a three-year age gap, but for the purposes of this fic, Dick is only one year older. (I highly doubt Bruce would let a ten-year-old on the Team, even if he'd let one patrol with him. Batdad's got weird priorities.)
> 
> Anyway! Will Sonder implode? Is Hal going to be alright? And _what_ has Dick been up to for the past three days? Tune in next time to find out!


	8. Nights to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets into a fight.
> 
> He also gets a Lantern ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I hope you like this chapter!

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 16, 2014, 10:46 PDT»**

Dick wakes in silence, which is a rare occurrence. In an attempt to fall back asleep, he burrows into his sheets. 

It’s futile. Pouting against his pillowcase, the acrobat reaches out, snags his phone from the bedside table, and taps out a quick message to Jennie.

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): hey are you doing anything today**

**hex girl reject: no and why the fuck did you change your name to that**

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): have you seen his kid? he’s got black hair and blue eyes. so do i. coincidence? i think not**

**hex girl reject: ignoring the fact that thousands of people have black hair and blue eyes… are you really suggesting that wayne only adopted that kid because they look alike**

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): you never know with Gotham’s Biggest Playboy™! anyway, hal’s out for business so wanna meet up??**

**hex girl reject: hell yeah, what do you wanna do**

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): arcade?**

**hex girl reject: i’ll be at your place in twenty**

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): awesome, see you soon!**

Dick drops the phone on his comforter, heads to the bathroom, gets dressed, and plops onto the couch with a protein bar. Twenty minutes later, Jennie knocks on the door.

“Hey, nerd,” she greets. “Is that a new Green Lantern shirt?”

“It sure is,” Dick says proudly. He links his pinkie with Jennie’s— as is their custom— and walks down the hallway. “How’s your break been?”

“My parents have been ignoring me, so. Just like every other day,” Jennie says.

Dick bites the inside of his cheek. “Are you sure I’m not allowed to fight them?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

“Okay, can _Hal_ fight them? Because he would totally win.” _He wouldn’t even need the ring._

“It’s fine, Dick. There’s nothing you can do,” Jennie mumbles. She sounds defeated, and Dick wants to shake her parents until they tell him why they treat her the way they do. Jennie is the _best._ And even if she wasn’t, nobody deserves to be ignored and belittled all the time.

But if Dick says any of this, Jennie will just get angry. So he simply gestures towards the arcade and says, “We’re here. What do you want to play first?”

“Um… that knock-off Mario Kart game?”

“After you,” Dick says, releasing her hand to offer her an exaggerated bow. She flicks him on the nose and leads him into the arcade.

They’re both abysmal at the racing game— Dick gets stuck in a river; Jennie gets hit by an NPC’s bomb and finishes second to last— so they try their hands at an apocalypse simulator.

“Gotta love killing zombies,” Jennie comments, squinting through the scope of her rifle. Dick thinks the expression makes her look like Roy, whose brow furrows the same way when he’s lining up a difficult shot.

Speaking of which, Dick _really_ needs to introduce her to Roy and Wally. They’ve heard a lot about her (and she about them), but they’ve never met. It’s a federal crime, in his opinion. He adds it to his mental checklist as he dies at the hands of undead children.

“Gotta love when zombies kill you,” he returns.

“You think the Justice League could survive a zombie apocalypse?”

“I mean, half of them have the option to simply leave the earth. Like. Literally flee the planet,” Dick says. “So, yeah.”

“But would they?” Jennie counters. “No. They would not abandon us like that.”  
  
“True,” Dick acquiesces, setting down the rifle. “Okay, I’m really hungry. Can we go get food?”

“What, did you skip breakfast again?”

“I had a protein bar, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.”

Jennie snorts. “Teenage boys and their metabolisms. Let’s go to Lottie’s. I’ve heard their pie is great.”

Dick takes her hand again, letting her lead him to the diner. Overhead, birds dance in the sky. He hides a smile. They’re robins, his mother’s favorite. Maybe if he and Jennie have leftovers, they can feed the birds.

There are no leftovers. There is only carnage. 

Dick taps his fork against his empty plate, watching Jennie take a bite of the famous pie. “How is it?”

“Underwhelming,” his friend complains. “I should’ve saved my money and eaten the rasmalai we have at home.”

“Underwhelming, overwhelming— why isn’t anything ever just whelming?”

“What?” Jennie says around a mouthful of key lime.

Dick’s never tried to explain this to anyone before, but Jennie’s first language wasn’t English, either. She’d get it. “Prefixes are supposed to be detachable, right? Like normal and abnormal?”

“Yes…?”

“So why isn’t that true for all words? Why can’t distraught become traught? Or overwhelmed become whelmed?”

“English is a horrible language, duh,” Jennie replies, raising her fork. “Never speak to me in English again. Actually, don’t use words at all. If you aren’t communicating via impressions, I don’t want to hear it.”

Dick dissolves into laughter. Jennie follows, nearly knocking over her soda in the process.

On the windowsill, a robin begins to sing.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 17, 2014, 11:18 PDT»**

The following morning, Dick wakes up and finds that the apartment is still quiet. Frowning, he slides out of bed and creeps into Hal’s room. 

The pilot isn’t there. He isn’t in the bathroom, the living room, or the kitchen either. Dick retrieves his phone and sends his guardian a message.

**bruce wayne’s son (in spirit): hey, i thought you were gonna be back already. are you stuck in debrief or something?**

The text doesn’t deliver. Dick raises an eyebrow. Hal’s ring is supposed to have ‘service’ anywhere in the galaxy. If it isn’t picking anything up, it must be out of juice.

_Or something bad happened._

Dismissing the thought, Dick eats a few pieces of toast and tasks himself with cleaning their home. Hal will get back to him soon; he’s sure of it.

But by the time night falls, Hal is still gone, and Dick hasn’t received a single message. He scowls at his phone, trying to ignore the worry building in his stomach. Surely if Hal was hurt, someone would’ve told him. Barry or Oliver would’ve called or come over… right?

Dick throws on a jacket and steps outside. He can’t sit on the couch and brood; he’ll lose it. Better for him to take a walk and do _something_ with his nervous energy.

The sky above him is unusually bright. Normally, Coast City is blanketed with smog, obscuring the stars. Tonight, though, Dick can make out individual constellations. He traces Ursa Major, Leo, and Hydra with his fingertips. Is Hal out there, somewhere among the lights?

The sound of a gunshot shatters his musings. Gasping, Dick ducks behind a pile of garbage. When the ringing in his ears fades, he cautiously peers around an upended cardboard box.

Five men are standing in an empty parking lot. One of them is brandishing a gun; three others are holding baseball bats. The last man isn’t holding anything, but his face is red with rage.

“I told you motherfuckers that you can’t just deal to the idiots in the Bowery! You have to think bigger!” He snarls. One of the men with a baseball bat flinches, as does Dick.

The acrobat steps backwards, intending to call the police and get out of there. Unfortunately, his sudden movement destabilizes the precariously placed trash, and a can of soup tumbles to the asphalt. The noise draws the men’s attention.

“Is that a fucking kid?” 

Dick decides that now is the time to leave.

But before he can run, one of the men storms forward and grabs him by the arm, tossing him into the center of the gang’s formation. Were Dick any other child, he would’ve landed hard. Instead, he turns the motion into a neat roll and comes up with a wary glare.

Bad move.

The acrobat immediately has to duck to avoid a bullet. He somersaults forward, nailing one of the men in the stomach. He doubles over, allowing Dick to punch him in the nose. That done, Dick divests his attacker of his baseball bat and hits the gunman in the hand. He drops his weapon, howling, and Dick slams the bat into his temple. 

Knocking the gun aside and dropping the bat, he handsprings over the guy charging him. The thug stumbles from Dick’s weight; Dick promptly kicks him in the back of the knee and lets his face make friends with the asphalt.

“Jesus Christ. I’ll off him myself,” says the leader, finally withdrawing a blade. He nods to the final man, and they come at Dick from both directions. Swearing, Dick grabs another bat— metal, this time— and uses it like a lance, striking one of his opponents in the jaw. His head snaps back, and he crumples to the ground.

Dick doesn’t get the chance to feel victorious. The leader rams a knee into his ribs, making him stumble. The bat falls from his hand. Before the acrobat can recover, the man pins him to the ground and presses the knife to his throat.

“I don’t know where the fuck you learned to fight like that, but you’re going down. For good,” he hisses. 

Dick's skin starts to split, and a drop of blood rolls down his neck. He should be scared. But as he stares into the furious eyes of the gang leader, he realizes that he isn’t afraid in the slightest. 

_Who is he kidding? The bad guys never win._

He spots a brick out of the corner of his eye and reaches toward it, sneering, “You can threaten me all you like. You’re the one that’s going down!”

“What the fuck are you—”

The man doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because Dick wraps his fingers around the brick and slams it into his temple.

He collapses, the knife tumbling from his slack fingers. Dick drops his makeshift weapon, decreeing, “You won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

The acrobat gets to his feet and staggers out of the parking lot. 

That’s when something strange happens.

A shooting star falls from the sky and comes to a stop two inches from his nose. With a cry of alarm, Dick backs away from the brightly glowing object.

It’s green. 

_RICHARD GRAYSON OF EARTH,_ says the emerald star. _YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO OVERCOME GREAT FEAR. WELCOME TO THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS._

“What the fuck,” Dick says blankly. He rubs his eyes, as if the past thirty seconds were a dream. But the ring is still there, bobbing merrily in midair.

Behind him, someone groans. Dick glances over his shoulder and realizes that one of the men is stirring. He snatches the ring out of the sky and runs, dialing 911 with his free hand.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“There’s a bunch of gang members in the parking lot next to Lottie’s diner. Please come get them before they wake up,” Dick says in a rush. He hangs up and scurries into his apartment building, feeling the ring pulse in his fist.

Once he’s safely inside his home, the acrobat collapses onto the couch. He presses a hand to his neck. When he pulls it away, his fingers are dyed red.

“Shit,” Dick whispers. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, he’s able to see how absolutely insane that fight was. He could’ve _died._ And this time, no one would’ve known.

Well. Maybe someone would’ve. He glances down at his hand. Hal told him that the rings are sent by the Guardians of Oa. If they were watching, then he wasn’t really alone.

He _feels_ alone, though. Hal’s not here to patch up his wounds, to celebrate his victory, to teach him how to use this ring. Dick’s going to have to do it all by himself.

He hobbles into the bathroom, where his reflection greets him with haunted eyes. The acrobat swallows, ignoring the slight sting in his throat, and gets to work. Within ten minutes, the wound is disinfected and neatly bandaged.

The ring floats towards him, trailing green sparks. Dick holds out his hand, and it falls into his palm.

“What do you want?” He asks, staring at the weapon. “Am I supposed to put you on?”

It warbles in response. Raising an eyebrow, Dick slips it onto his right ring finger. Emerald light washes over his body, and when it fades, Dick’s reflection is completely different. He’s now wearing a black, white, and green uniform. Curiously, the space in the center of his chest— where Hal has the Corps’ symbol— is blank.

“Huh,” he mutters, turning around. His feet leave the ground mid-step, and he rises into the air. It’s easier to balance than he expected. Actually, it feels like he’s just jumped off the trapeze platform. 

But this time, no one needs to catch him.

Dick thinks that he can get used to this.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 18, 2014, 04:53 PDT»**

Today, Dick is woken by the ring chirping at him. The rest of the apartment is still dark and silent. It’s early, and evidently, Hal still isn’t back.

 _At least I have time to figure out my powers,_ he reassures himself. He leaves the ring on the bed while he showers and changes. Upon his return, he finds it spinning in lazy circles above the pillow.

“Are all Lantern rings like this, or are you just special?” The acrobat asks, shaking his head. He’s never seen Hal’s ring do anything like this. Then again, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Hal take his ring _off._

Whatever. Dick plucks the ring out of the air and slips it back on. This time, it doesn’t trigger the transformation. Good— Dick would like to eat breakfast before he gets into superhero shenanigans.

After he plows through half a carton of eggs, the acrobat closes all the blinds and stands in the center of the living room. “Do your thing,” he tells the ring.

Light spills over him, leaving him in the Corps’ uniform. It fits him better than half his actual clothes do, and it moves like real fabric, even though it’s just a light construct. 

Ah. Constructs. Dick should be able to make those now. He takes a deep breath and pictures a miniature F22 fighter jet— Hal’s go-to construct, albeit one small enough to fit inside their home. 

The plane turns out looking like a shapeless blob.

“Ugh, no!” Dick exclaims. He grinds his teeth and tries again. This time, he gets the plane to materialize, but it dissolves less than a minute later. Every other item he tries meets the same fate.

So… constructs aren’t really his thing. What else can he do? What else is the ring capable of?

He starts pacing in midair, thinking. He’s seen Hal ask his ring to do something and then turn back to a mundane task countless times. That’s how Dick knows that Lantern rings can be synced with Earth’s technology; Hal occasionally answers the phone by talking to his hand. They can scan things, too. When Dick broke his arm a year ago, Hal determined the extent of the damage before the paramedics had the chance to. They're clearly versatile objects.

At the realization, Dick abruptly stops pacing, his eyes fixed on the ring. It’s much more than a weapon, and it seems to have some degree of autonomy, so… can’t Dick ask it to find Hal?

“Ring,” he says, “locate the other Lantern in this sector.”

The ring hums, and a holographic map appears in the air above him. _SECTOR 2814’S PRIMARY LANTERN CAN BE FOUND AT THESE COORDINATES._

Dick squints at the projection. According to the ring, Hal is… floating in space? _Well, he’s technically in Earth’s orbit. Is he on the moon? Or— there’s that Justice League base._

The Watchtower. Though Dick doesn’t know exactly where it is or what it looks like, he’s heard Hal mention it more than once. And he knows that the League operates from there, even though they tell the public that the Hall of Justice is their headquarters.

“Guess we’re gonna crash the League’s party,” the acrobat says grimly. He summons the transformation. With a wave of his hand, he dismantles the map and flits out of the open window.

The higher Dick flies, the more anxious he gets. He has no idea what he’s doing. What if he falls, like his—

 _No. I won’t. If I fall, I’ll never see Hal again,_ he thinks. The emerald light surrounding him brightens in response to his resolve, and he increases his speed. 

Before long, Dick soars into space. And there, floating amongst the twinkling stars, is a satellite partially embedded in an asteroid. It can’t be anything but the Watchtower. 

Dick zooms towards it, pausing when he realizes he has no way of getting inside. If he were on Earth, he would try to blast the doors open with the ring, but doing that here would be disastrous. 

Heavy on the dis.

Frustrated, he drifts closer and comes face to face with a man made of shadows. The acrobat jerks back in surprise, his ring flaring with light. He’s… oh. He’s in front of a window, and the person inside is—

Batman? He mouths. The man nods. Dick exhales shakily and asks, Can you let me in?

The hero motions for Dick to wait. Five minutes later, the doors to the hangar swing open. 

Dick swoops inside and touches down in front of Batman. He can’t decipher the cowled hero’s expression, but he gets the feeling that he’s being judged. He waits for the man to speak, fidgeting with the ring all the while.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Dick,” the acrobat stammers. He snaps his fingers and the mask disappears, revealing his face. “I’m, um…”

“Green Lantern’s son. I was not aware that you also held a ring,” Batman finishes. “I assume you’ve come to see him.”

“Well, yeah, he hasn’t been home in days! And he told me that his mission wasn’t going to take long, so I got worried!”

Batman tilts his head, looking for all the world like one of Gotham’s famous gargoyles. “No one informed you.”

“Informed me of _what?”_ Dick says desperately. To his horror, tears well up in his eyes.

“During the mission to Sonder, Green Lantern was injured. He has been in the Watchtower’s med bay ever since.”

“The med bay…” Dick whispers. The transformation flickers as his fear spikes. After it stabilizes, he demands, “Take me to him.”

Batman nods and spins on his heel. Dick hurries after him, eventually switching to flying in order to keep up with the elder hero’s long strides. They eventually appear in a sterile, white room. Only one of the beds is occupied, and beside it sits the Flash. His cowl is down, revealing his blond hair and dark circles.

“Barry,” Dick says, flitting towards him. 

“Oh, hey, Dick,” the speedster mumbles. Then he seems to realize that Dick shouldn’t be here, nor should he be wearing a Lantern Corps uniform. “Whoa! When did you get a ring?! _How’d_ you get a ring?”

“Last night. It’s not important. What happened to Hal?”

Barry looks at Hal, whose face is twisted in pain. “There was a civil war on Sonder. Hal, Superman, and Wonder Woman got caught in the crossfire. His ring timed out just as he was hit by a laser, and he’s been unconscious for days.”

“It was a serious injury,” Batman intones. “Why did you not think to inform his child, Allen?”

“It slipped my mind. And I can’t help but notice that _you_ aren’t surprised by Dick’s existence. If you knew Hal had a kid, why didn’t you say anything?” Barry asks sharply.

“This is the first time I’ve left Gotham in five days. There was an Arkham breakout, and on top of that, Bluejay caught a case of rebellion and hacked his way into several systems he was _not_ supposed to have access to— including, as Wonder Woman _so kindly informed me,_ the Watchtower,” the Dark Knight grouses.

“Ah,” says Barry, apparently mollified.

Dick frowns. _What’s Arkham? And who the hell is Bluejay?_ He wants to ask, but he figures that Batman probably won’t appreciate it.

So he turns back to Hal’s bed and rests his head on his arms, his eyes never wavering from his guardian’s face.

-

Oliver comes to retrieve him a few hours later.

“Hey, kid. Heard you’re a Lantern now.”

“Yup,” Dick says, holding up his ring hand. It still hasn’t sunk in that he’s been drafted into the Corps. He’s thirteen. He has a rudimentary understanding of astronomy and the self-preservation skills of a particularly dedicated chihuahua. There are thousands of people with better qualifications. 

_Why did they pick me?_

“Congrats. Come to the commons, won’t you? I made hot dogs.”

Dick blinks at the faded blanket, realizing that he is, in fact, hungry. The ring beeps softly, prompting him to get to his feet and follow Oliver to the kitchen. While they walk, his mask forms over his eyes. 

The archer leads him into a crowded dining hall. Dick bites back a surprised gasp— the entire upper echelon of the Justice League is here. Batman is speaking quietly to Superman and Aquaman; Martian Manhunter and Barry are trading quips over a pack of mint Oreos; the Hawks are arm wrestling at the counter while Wonder Woman referees. All of them pause to stare at Dick.

“This is the boy?” Aquaman asks.

“Yeah,” Oliver replies. “Hal’s kid. Hey, you should set up a play date with Kaldur! He’s already friends with Roy and Wally. Jury’s still out on Bats’ kid, though.”

“He has not met Bluejay, and he will not be doing so anytime soon,” Batman says. His cowl lenses are blank, but Dick gets the feeling that he’s glaring at Oliver.

Hawkwoman snorts. “As well he shouldn’t. Who gave Green Lantern the right to raise a child? The man can barely raise himself.”

“It’s not because of that. Bluejay is grounded,” answers the Dark Knight. “And you should think twice before you insult a parent to their child’s face.”

Dick blinks in surprise. _Think twice? What does that mean?_

Then he realizes that he’s hovering a good three feet off the ground and is radiating acidic green light. Ah. He actually looks threatening.

The acrobat is absolutely going to regret this in the morning, but at the moment, he’s too angry to care.

“Don’t say that about Hal! When my parents died, he held me! He gave me his jacket! He took me in, and he taught me English, and he sat at my bedside when I had nightmares! He saved me, and he’s my fucking dad. You don’t get to talk shit about him!”

Panting, Dick drops out of the air. The light around him is still shimmering in warning, but he thinks he’s made his point. Aquaman and Wonder Woman look impressed, and Batman seems… smug. Dick doesn’t know what that’s about, but he’ll take it over being scolded.

(It does not occur to him that this is the first time he has ever referred to Hal as his father.)

“Why are people screaming?” Someone groans from the doorway. 

Dick whirls around, gasping in delight. “Hal! You’re awake!”

He zips through the air and tackles the pilot as gently as he can. Hal ruffles his hair, laughing,

“Hey, kiddo. I’m okay. And… huh, you’re flying. Did you take my ring?”

“Uh, Hal?” Barry says. Hal glances at him, and Barry points at the pilot’s right hand, where his lifeless ring sits.

“I’m a Green Lantern!” Dick exclaims. 

“How?” Hal says, placing his hands on the acrobat’s shoulders and staring into his masked eyes.

“Um… I sort of got in a fight with some gang members. And I hit one with a brick. And someone on Oa liked that, I guess.”

Hal blows a stray curl off of his forehead, saying, “We are _definitely_ going to revisit that, but right now, congratulations are in order. I’m proud of you, Dick.” 

He crushes the acrobat into a hug. Dick tucks his face into the crook between the pilot’s neck and shoulder, tears of relief pricking his eyes.

They’ve got a lot to figure out. But as he melts into Hal’s embrace, Dick can’t bring himself to feel anything but joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jennie's username on the chat app is a reference to the Hex Girls, a band from Scooby Doo. Rasmalai is an Indian dessert. Dick and Jennie are right; English sucks. And finally, I have decided that this chapter includes enough Jinx content to warrant updating the tags.
> 
> Dick, taking a page out of Stephanie's book: It's time to hit someone with a brick!
> 
> Dick's uniform is missing the Corps' decal for a reason— rookie Lanterns aren't allowed to wear the symbol until they've gotten training on Oa.
> 
> Batman around the League members: Each day, you test me more. Alfred, deliver me.  
> Batman around children: Hey, do you need a dad? ...You have a dad? Well, if you want another one, you know where to find me.


	9. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green Lantern: For Dummies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm glad that you all liked the last chapter— I hope you enjoy Chapter 9, too!

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 19, 2014, 02:32 PDT»**

After getting the go-ahead from Doctor Mid-Nite, Hal returns home… 

…and promptly faceplants onto his bed. 

Dick hovers in the air behind him, looking judgmental. “You just spent three days sleeping. You really want to sleep more?”

“Kid,” Hal says into the duvet, “Watchtower beds _suck._ I missed my sweet, sweet Tempur-Pedic mattress. Besides, my back still hurts.”

“Oh,” Dick says, soft and guilty. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re fine, kiddo. And you have a point— we should talk before we sleep,” Hal soothes the acrobat. He slides off the bed and turns to face Dick, who is still floating. 

_Huh._ “You got the hang of that pretty quick.”

“What?”

“The flying,” Hal replies, gesturing at Dick, who is now sitting cross-legged in mid-air. “Seriously, you’re a natural. It took me a couple of days before I could do that.”

“Thanks. Wish I didn’t suck at making constructs, though,” Dick says moodily. “I couldn’t get any of them to stay together for longer than a few seconds.”

“I was the same way,” the pilot confides. “And when I finally got them to stick, they were about as solid as wet toilet paper. Kilowog tore through them and punted me halfway across Oa.”

“Who’s that?”

Hal winces. “He’s another Lantern. And, well… you’ll meet him soon. He trains all the rookies, you see.”

“Wait, you’re not going to train me?” Dick says. The light shimmering around him flickers in distress.

“I’ll teach you the basics, but you’re gonna have to go through boot camp, kiddo. A bunch of Lanterns will be involved.”

Dick twists his fingers together. He looks more nervous than Hal’s ever seen him, and the pilot smiles in sympathy.

“I won’t lie and tell you that it’ll be easy. But I know you can do it. You flew to the Watchtower all by yourself— you can handle scrapping with Kilowog.”

“You just said he smacked you halfway across a _planet._ Sorry for being a little freaked out.”

“We’re Green Lanterns, kid. We don’t do fear,” Hal replies, pulling Dick into a hug. The boy wraps his arms and legs around him like a koala. Beaming, Hal continues, “Okay, maybe a little fear. Just let it pass over and through you.”

“Okay,” Dick mutters. He finally drops to the ground, and the transformation falls away, revealing the most uncoordinated outfit Hal has ever had the misfortune of witnessing. 

(Seriously, the other Leaguers have subjected him to some pretty wacky looks, but he’s never seen lime green paired with hot pink.)

“What’s with the clothes?”

“Damn ring dragged me out of bed at five in the morning. I wasn’t really thinking about fashion.”

Dick’s ring chirps merrily. The sound reminds Hal that his own ring is still cold and silent— he’s gotta charge it. Stepping around his kid, Hal kneels and retrieves the lantern from his drawer.

“Hey, when do I get one of those?” Dick asks, watching Hal place his ring into the power battery.

“You have one already; it’s just in a pocket dimension! Try reaching out and opening it.”

The acrobat looks at Hal like he’s insane, but he obediently extends his ring hand and swipes it through the air. A small rift opens. Surprised, Dick reaches into it and pulls out his lantern.

“I did not see that coming,” he says, blinking at the device. “How’d you figure this stuff out by yourself?”

Hal looks away, deciding not to tell Dick how he’d gotten his ring and power battery. “Trial and error. Anyway, keep the lantern in the pocket dimension whenever you’re not using it. I should do the same, but, well, I used to leave it in a locker at work, and I’ve never managed to kick the habit.”

“Gotcha. What are we gonna do now?”

“I’m gonna make us some food, and then we are _going to bed._ It’s late, I’m injured, and you’re like, five,” Hal says airily.

“You know I’m thirteen,” Dick says, crossing his arms.

“Yes, you’re very grown up,” Hal says. He ruffles Dick’s hair, adding, “You’ve got a power ring and everything. Next thing you know, you’ll be running off into the sunset with Jennie.”

“Oh my god! I don’t have a crush on her! Why does everyone think that?!”

“Okay, would you prefer to run off with _Wally?”_

Dick shrieks, snatches a pillow off the bed, and throws it into the pilot’s face. Laughing, Hal makes a mad dash for the door, happier than ever to be back home.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 20, 2014, 12:29 PDT»**

Hal sets a bowl of cereal on the counter and watches Dick fall upon it like a starved wolf.

“You know, sometimes you scare me, kid,” he says. 

“I thought we didn’t do fear. Besides, you’ve seen Barry do the same thing a billion times.”

“Are you a speedster now? How will my bank account ever recover?”

“Shut up,” Dick laughs, flicking a marshmallow at Hal. “You just don’t understand my relationship with cereal. We’re star-crossed.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my mother that her grandson is marrying a box of Lucky Charms,” Hal says dryly.

Dick abruptly falls silent, and Hal freezes, the implication of his words hitting him like a truck. He hurriedly opens his mouth to do damage control.

But the acrobat beats him to it. 

“When I was yelling at Hawkwoman… I called you my dad. I didn’t realize it until later.” 

_Is that what he wants me to be?_ “Kid—”

“It didn’t feel wrong!” He bursts out. “I’ll _always_ miss Dya and Dat. But they’re not here anymore. _You_ are. And there’s no law saying I can’t have another dad.”

Hal stares at Dick, who is watching him through his dark eyelashes. Slowly, he agrees, “No. I don’t think there is.”

Dick smiles, precious and fragile, and tells him, “Sweet. By the way, your pancakes are burning.”

Cursing, Hal whirls around and yanks the smoking pan off the stove.

“Well done, Green Lantern. You can save the world, but you can’t save your lunch.”

“Hey,” Hal says, pointing at his son (his son!), “we just established that you’re my kid. You can’t make fun of me anymore.”

“That means I can make _more_ fun of you.”

“Can I bribe you with cereal to make you stop?”

“I only accept bribes in the form of Lantern lessons,” Dick says imperiously. “Really, though. I wanna learn how to use this ring before I get to Oa.” 

“Yeah, we could do that,” Hal replies. Internally, the pilot bemoans the timing of Dick’s ring acquisition; his back injury is gonna make this training session hell.

 _But saving lives is important, and before long, Dick’s gonna have to do that,_ he tells himself. “Get dressed. I know a place where we can really cut loose.”

Dick hops off the counter and races to his room. Sighing, Hal unwraps a granola bar.

“OK, Google— how do I teach my son to use his new superpowers?”

-

Hal leads Dick to Coast City’s zeta tube, which is hidden in a library. They wander through the maze of shelves, Dick watching in interest as Hal pokes at the spines of the books. When he finds the one he’s looking for, the pilot pulls it off the shelf, which swings open to reveal the teleportation device.

“How did they build this here without anyone noticing?” Dick marvels. He bounds into the tube, his eyes wide and excited.

Hal hurriedly replaces the book, darts around the closing door, and inputs his override key before the zeta has a chance to incinerate them. He’ll have to remember to give Dick permanent access; the Watchtower’s defense systems are _not_ kind to intruders. Once he’s sure his kid is safe, he explains, “I accidentally destroyed the library in one of my fights. The Justice League offered to rebuild it, and when they did, they added a little something extra. As one does.”

“Cool. Where are we going?”

“Back to the Watchtower. I need to tell whoever’s on monitor duty that we’ll be training in the asteroid belt, so they don’t flip out and assume that we’re being invaded. Again.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a story behind that?” Dick asks, transforming mid-sentence. Hal does the same, explaining,

“Captain Marvel nearly took out the Batplane once. It wasn’t his finest moment. Anyway, get ready; I’m starting the zeta now.”

The tube floods with light. Seconds later, they’re deposited in the Watchtower, and an automated voice announces, “Recognized: Green Lantern — 05; Authorized Guest.” 

“This place is amazing,” Dick says, following Hal out of the atrium. “Did the JLA make it?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. Batman suggested that we build a satellite and launch it into orbit, ‘cause he makes up a solid 80% of the League’s funding and is physically incapable of thinking like a normal person. We pointed out that we would never be able to keep a project like that secret. The JLA went back to the drawing board, and eventually, I found a solution.”

“Don’t tell me this place is a construct,” Dick gasps.

“Nope. But once upon a time, the Watchtower belonged to the Lantern Corps,” Hal says smugly as they step into the monitor womb. “I got them to donate it to us.”

“Telling Dick about your heroic exploits, Hal?” 

Hal glances up and catches Barry’s eye. The speedster is leaning against the wall, casually munching on Doritos.

“Sure am. Were you scheduled for monitor duty, or are you covering for someone?”

“I agreed to take over Black Canary’s shift, and I’m bored out of my mind,” the blond complains. “Would one of you two be willing to free me?”

“Do you ask Wally to do your chores, too?” Dick asks, raising an eyebrow.

Barry sheepishly rubs the back of his cowled head. “Only sometimes— wait a minute! I totally forgot to tell him that you’re a Lantern now!”

“Don’t!” Dick demands. He flits through the air and snatches the speedster’s phone out of his hands. “And tell GA not to tell Roy, either. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Devil,” Hal says fondly.

“I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces,” Dick laughs, flipping upside down and grinning at the elder heroes. “Anyway, Barry, we just wanted to tell you that we’re gonna be training in the asteroid belt, and if stuff explodes, it wasn’t ‘cause of aliens.”

“Have fun,” the speedster says. “I’m gonna stare at these screens for the next, uh, _millennium.”_

“Godspeed,” Hal tells Barry, clapping him on the shoulder. “Open the Javelin Bay for us when we get down there, will you?”

Barry gives him a thumbs up; Hal takes it as his cue to jump into the air and fly as fast as he can towards the hangar. Squealing in indignation, Dick races after him.

“You can’t start a race without telling your opponent!”

“You’re keeping up, aren’t you?!”

He bursts into the Javelin Bay with Dick hot on his heels. Unfamiliar as he is with the satellite’s layout, the acrobat nearly flies face-first into one of the spaceships, forcing Hal to snatch him out of the air with a claw-like construct. He pouts in the light’s emerald grip. 

“I could’ve stopped in time.”

“Probably,” Hal concedes. Dick’s reflexes are top notch, thanks to all the time he’s spent with Wally. “That was instinct. You won’t believe the amount of times our team’s flyers have crashed into things.”

Dick wiggles out of the construct’s grasp and soars into space. “Have you ever seen Superman do it?”

“Oh, yeah. He flew directly into a comet once. We will not be doing that,” Hal says, following Dick into the void. “Come on!”

He and his son fly further and further away from Earth, until they dart between Phobos and Deimos and emerge into the asteroid belt. 

“I can feel Jupiter’s gravity,” Dick remarks. “Am I supposed to?”

“It’s strong, so yeah, you’re gonna feel it. Have I told you about Mogo yet?”

“What’s that?”

“Who,” Hal corrects. “Sort of. Mogo is a sentient planet, and it’s also a Green Lantern. It weaponizes its gravitational field all the time. Sometimes, its allies get pulled in, too.”

“How did a planet become a Lantern?! In what universe does that make sense?”

The pilot laughs at Dick’s expression. “To be honest, kiddo, I have no idea. But Mogo is an important member of the Corps. Maybe you’ll meet it someday. Until then, though…”

“Right. Training,” Dick says. He drops onto an asteroid and settles into a boxing stance. “Hit me.”

Hal materializes a robot that bears a strong resemblance to S.T.R.I.P.E. “Are you _sure_ you’re ready?”

Dick yelps and extends his arms, causing a transparent green dome to form around him. Leaving his construct where it is, Hal zips forward and raps against the shield with his ring hand. It promptly shatters.

“Seriously?” The acrobat complains. “Why?”

“What is a Lantern’s ring powered by?”

“Uh… emotions?”

“Right. All Lanterns are powered by some kind of emotion. For Star Sapphires, it’s love. For the Sinestro Corps, it’s fear. And for us, it’s _willpower._ You have to have the control and determination to keep your constructs together,” Hal says. “When you create something, envision it as unbreakable.”

“Okay.”

“Trust yourself,” Hal says. He lets S.T.R.I.P.E. dissipate and forms a volleyball in his left hand. He can probably hit Dick with it without seriously hurting him, right?

_I totally can._

Hal flings the ball upwards and spikes it. Dick raises his hand, forming another shield. The ball hits the dome, ricochets away, and obliterates a small asteroid.

“There you go!” Hal crows, soaring towards his son and squishing him into a hug. 

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Dick’s mouth. “Do it again!”

And so he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's canonical basis for Dick being a natural flyer. In Teen Titans Go! (2003) #24, the Titans swap powers thanks to a magical amulet, and Dick ends up with Starfire's abilities. He spends half the issue _literally_ walking on air.
> 
> When Hal tells Dick to let the fear pass over and through him, he is referencing the Litany Against Fear from Dune.
> 
> If Coast City's zeta isn't in a library, it is now!
> 
> There's conflicting canon on who created the Watchtower. Justice League: The Animated Series suggests that Bruce somehow built the thing in the weeks preceding the alien invasion, but the Complete Young Justice Timeline video I watched while doing research for this fic says that the Green Lantern Corps gave the JLA one of their old bases. Seeing as this is a Green Lantern fic, I went with the latter interpretation.
> 
> Yes, there really is a planet with Green Lantern abilities. I still don't know how to process that.
> 
> S.T.R.I.P.E. is the partner of Stargirl, as seen in the comics, Justice League: Unlimited, and the DC Universe original show.


	10. Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end.
> 
> It's only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the final full chapter of "starlight raining over me", which is being posted on the same day as the finale of Stargirl!
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos!

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«March 25, 2014, 09:57 PDT»**

Dick squints at the dark shape on the fluorescent light. Under his gaze, it wiggles and opens its wings. A moth, he realizes. He hadn't been aware that the season had already started.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Dick?” Jennie says. She waves her hand in front of his face, and his eyes refocus on her sparkling nail polish. It’s bubblegum pink, like the single stripe hidden in her braid. Come high school, she promised, she’d finally dye _all_ of her hair, parents be damned.

Fiddling with the ring on his finger, he replies, “Sorry, I’m exhausted. Did you say something?”

“Yeah, that we’re gonna be late to math. What were you looking at?”

“A moth,” Dick answers, but he hadn’t been thinking about the insect at all. Honestly, ever since he’d become a Lantern, his mind has been up in the stars. Luckily for him— or unluckily, depending on his mood— his training has been put on hold until the summer. He doesn’t have to worry about getting drop-kicked across a planet (yet).

Jennie shakes her head, looking repulsed. “I fucking hate moths. They’re annoying, and they shed everywhere, and did you know they can _eat clothes?_ Truly, the worst insect.”

“What about wasps? I got stung by one once and I still haven’t recovered,” Dick counters, taking his seat. She drops into the one diagonal to him and nods.

“Wasps are also terrible. Honorable mention for spiders— they might kill other insects, but they’re freaky.”

“Spiders are arachnids, and they are also _friends,_ thank you very much!” The acrobat retorts. Any further arguing is interrupted by the arrival of their teacher, who is carrying an armful of worksheets. She begins passing them out, and Dick tries to get his brain to focus on algebra. He fails; as much as he loves math, and as good as he is at it, his attention is glued to his ring.

He and Hal have been practicing with it every night, and yesterday, he’d gone to the Watchtower to test it out against some of the senior heroes. They discovered that while his constructs hold against Black Canary’s cries, they can’t withstand blows from Superman or Wonder Woman. And Barry’s yellow boots, of course, make them fizzle into nothing.

On the plus side, Dick is _excellent_ at flying— so much so that he overheard Hal and Batman quietly discussing whether or not he should be allowed to run a recon mission with some of the other teenagers. Privately, he hopes they’ll let him go. He wants to fight alongside Roy and Wally, and he’d like to meet Aqualad and Bluejay (who, as the Leaguers have mentioned while cheerfully heckling Batman, is no longer grounded).

 _Well, what will be, will be,_ Dick thinks.

He flips the worksheet over and begins filling it out.

-

When night falls, Dick pries open his window and flies into the clouds. Hal is already there, absentmindedly toying with a neon-green baseball.

“Please tell me you’re not going to make me play baseball. It’s the most boring game in the world,” Dick complains. He comes to a stop five feet in front of Hal and crosses his arms.

“Batter up,” Hal replies, tossing the ball at Dick. It winks out before it reaches him. “Nah, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” Dick asks curiously. At this point, he’s pretty sure he’s met all of Hal’s friends. 

_Is it another Green Lantern? Oh, shit. What if it's Kilowog? I am not mentally prepared for that._

Hal smiles. “You’ll see.”

At his words, brilliant purple light breaks through the clouds. Dick shields his eyes. Through the gaps in his fingers, he glimpses a woman. She drifts to a stop, and the light dims until the acrobat can get a good look at her.

The new arrival is wearing a deep pink and white costume. There’s a crown atop her head, and a half-formed mask encircles her eyes. Dick feels like he’s seen her before, but he’s not sure where.

“Hey, Highball,” she tells Hal. “Gotta say, I did not believe you when you said your kid found a Lantern ring.”

“He did not ‘find’ it, okay; _I_ found my ring. He _earned_ it,” Hal defends. There’s no venom in his voice, though. They’re definitely friends.

“Whatever you say,” the woman snickers. Turning to Dick, she says, “Hey. I’m Carol Ferris. Nice to finally meet you— your dad hasn’t shut up once about you in five years.”

 _Oh my god! This is Hal’s boss!_ “Hi, Ms. Ferris. I didn’t know you were a Lantern. What kind?”

“‘Love conquers all with _violet_ light,’” Carol replies, pointing to the gem set in her crown. 

“Oh, you’re a Star Sapphire. But aren’t sapphires blue?”

Hal laughs so hard that he loses a full ten feet in altitude. Dick sticks his tongue out at the pilot, feeling annoyed. It’s a valid question.

“Well, yeah, but Star Amethyst doesn’t have the same ring to it,” says the heroine. “And quit cackling before I fire you, Hal.”

“You can’t fire me! I’m the best you’ve got!”

“That’s up for debate.”

“I've found a partner in crime,” Dick says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “If I give you blackmail material, will you do the same for me?”

“Absolutely,” Carol promises.

Hal squeaks in outrage. “I didn’t introduce you two so you could plot against me! I wanted Dick to know more about the emotional spectrum!”

“Ah. Fly with me, kid,” Carol says. She twirls in mid-air and soars out into the city. Dick follows, noting that she and Hal have a similar manner of flying. It must be a pilot thing.

“Let’s start with the basics. You know that each color of the rainbow has an emotion associated with it, right?”

"Yeah," Dick chirps. "Red for rage, orange for greed, yellow for fear, green for willpower, blue for hope, indigo for compassion, and violet for love!"

“Correct. Were you aware that the level of control the wielder has is affected by the color as well?”

"It is?" 

“Willpower,” Carol says, “is the most stable emotion. The further you get from that green center, the harder it is to distinguish yourself from your emotions. Red Lanterns are completely consumed by fury; the members of the Indigo Tribe have actually had compassion _forced_ on them by their rings. And I… I wasn’t in control at all when I first became a Star Sapphire. Love is overpowering, as I’m sure you’ll learn someday.”

The acrobat halts and looks at Hal. His guardian nods in confirmation. Worrying his lip between his teeth, he asks, "Why are you telling me this?"

The senior Lanterns exchange a loaded glance, as if they’re debating something. 

Carol is the first to crack.

"Because sooner or later, kid," the Star Sapphire says heavily, "you're probably going to have to fight another Lantern. Know thy enemy."

"What?" Dick stammers.

"The Sinestro Corps and the Red Lanterns have it out for us," Hal says. "Well. For those of us who are Green Lanterns, anyway."

"I fought off three Reds last time I was in the Vega system. It's not just you," Carol denies.

Dick perches atop a cloud bank, feeling dread curl in his stomach. He'd only learned there were other Lanterns, like, ten minutes ago. How is he supposed to handle knowing those Lanterns want him dead?

"Hey, look at me," Hal commands, flying directly into his line of sight. "Green Lanterns look out for their own. And you've got me, Carol, and the whole Justice League to help, too."

"Promise?" Dick asks. 

"I promise. Let's talk about hope… or more accurately, about Blue Lanterns, and why they're fucking awesome."

* * *

**«Watchtower, Earth’s Orbit, Sector 2814»**

**«March 28, 2014, 00:18 PDT»**

The days pass without incident. As the 27th cycles into the 28th, Hal and Dick fly to the Watchtower for another sparring session. This time, they're pitting Dick against Stargirl, which is supposed to be a "learning experience" for both of them.

Dick thinks someone just wants to watch him get his ass kicked. He's seen videos of Stargirl in the field, and she's _good._ Plus, her staff has a mind of its own, so he's going to be fighting one-on-two.

But that’s okay. Sparring is almost as fun as trapeze training was, and seeing as he’s probably going to piss off multiple people in the future, he’ll gladly take the opportunity to learn new tactics.

"You changed your costume," Hal comments as they swoop into the Javelin Bay. "I like it."

"Thanks," Dick says, glancing down at himself. Since he's not yet allowed to wear the Corps' symbol, he's got a black V painted across his chest and shoulders. The back of his top extends to his knees, like the long waistcoat Haly used to wear, but his is split into five segments. 

(Carol had called it a peacock's tail. Dick thinks she was trying to tease him, but the thought genuinely makes him happy. He likes birds. 

So had his mother.) 

They enter the monitor room, where Oliver greets them with a harried expression. 

"So," he says. "Bad news. Stargirl picked a fight with Shiv and is gonna be out of commission for a couple of days."

"Is she okay?" Hal asks.

"J'onn said she's good. She's got S.T.R.I.P.E. and Wildcat with her. Uh, that's not the only thing, though."

"What's wrong?" 

"Roy decided to antagonize Klarion the Witch Boy, and there. Um. There may be demons in Happy Harbor."

"Demons? Actual demons?" Dick shrieks. "Why didn't you lead with that?!" 

"'Cause the boys seem to be handling it," the archer says. He pulls up a satellite feed of Rhode Island, where Roy and Wally are fighting off a pack of shadowy creatures. Behind them, a hero dressed in blue jams a bronze feather into one's eye and flips away as it explodes.

"What the hell is Bats teaching that kid," Hal mutters. "Is Aqualad with them?"

"Yeah. You wanna go read them the riot act? After you help them, of course."

Dick shoots into the air, begging, "Let me go! I know I'm not fully trained, but everyone has to start somewhere!" 

Hal frowns.

"Please?" The acrobat wheedles. "You can come hover in a cloud bank if you want to! Just let me try!"

"Fine," Hal groans. "But be careful— wow, I can't believe _I_ just said that."

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Dick cheers. He bounces up to hug Hal before rushing back to the Javelin Bay. At Oliver's command, the doors open, and he soars into the night. 

It takes Dick seven minutes to get to Happy Harbor. Upon his arrival, he drops right into a pack of stray demons. Forming a war hammer, Dick leaps into the fray. The first creature explodes into black dust when he strikes it.

"Disgusting," he says brightly as it settles over him. "I haven't felt this alive since my last performance!"

The demon’s friends don’t take kindly to his act— they charge. Dick hits one with his weapon, decimating it, but the other tackles him. He hastily hardens his costume, sparing himself from being shredded by its claws.

“Back _off,”_ the acrobat snarls. He shoves his ring hand into its shadowy fur and unleashes a formless blast of emerald light. The attack vaporizes the demon.

Spitting dust out of his mouth, Dick gets to his feet. He warily surveys the area, hoping there aren’t more demons nearby. Thankfully, he’s the only living soul around; the bulk of the beasts must be with the others. 

The sound of an explosion reaches his ears. _That sounded like Roy's heavy artillery. So they’re over… there._

Brushing the demon’s remains off of himself, Dick takes to the sky. He arrives at the epicenter of the attack and quickly assesses the situation.

A blond boy— Aqualad, presumably— is trying to corral the demons with a barrier of water. He herds them towards Wally, Roy, and Bluejay, the former of whom is punching their opponents at Mach 5 while the latter two unleash their most destructive weapons. 

As Dick floats closer, Aqualad's barrier wobbles dangerously. The Atlantean leaps out of the way as it breaks and a horde of demons floods towards his friends.

 _Now is the time for a dramatic entrance,_ Dick thinks. Raising his hands, he creates a massive anvil and drops it on the demons. They howl as they’re crushed. Pleased, Dick touches down and summons a shining sword.

"What the fuck," Bluejay says, throwing a blade past Wally and nailing a demon right between the eyes. "Who the shit is that?!"

"New Green Lantern, at your service!" Dick replies cheerfully. "Duck, Speedy!"

Roy hurriedly obeys. Dick somersaults over the archer’s back and cuts down two enemies in one fell swoop. He lands beside Wally, who gasps in recognition.

"Richard Jordan-Grayson! Since when do you have a power ring?!"

"Long story, don't full name me, and move!" Dick shouts. He whips out his hand and another group of demons disintegrates underneath a hail of emerald bullets.

"You know him?" Aqualad asks, joining their circle. He draws two shimmering blades from his back and falls into a defensive stance.

"This is Green Lantern's kid," Roy explains. "And he's like, twelve, so don't ask me how he got a ring."

"Like it matters how old he is. I'm actually twelve and I could kick your ass any day of the week," Bluejay sneers. Dick can’t see the vigilante's eyes behind his bronze mask, but he’s sure they’re narrowed in focus. It looks like Bluejay is just as intense as his mentor… though he seems much quicker to anger.

Not that Roy is any better. “Listen here, you little shit—” 

“This is not the time!” Aqualad shouts, cutting the archer off. He pauses in his rebuke to freeze a contingent of demons in a small iceberg. “We cannot keep fighting like this. Does anyone have a plan?”

“Uh, usually Uncle B and I wing it,” Wally replies. He rotates his hand, creating a tornado that smashes the nearest ten demons into a building.

“Of course you do,” Bluejay groans. He leaps into the air to avoid a demon’s claws and flings the last of his sharp feathers. “Goddamn it. Someone better come up with something before we’re toast!”

“I think I have an idea,” Dick says hesitantly. It’s not the most elegant plan, and if even one piece is out of place, all five of them are fucked. 

_But it’s the best we’ve got._

"All ears, dude!" Wally calls.

“Okay, so… shields are the first thing I learned how to make, and that’s step one,” the acrobat explains, tightening his fists. A transparent green bubble forms around them. The demons immediately fling themselves against it, scratching and biting the construct.

“This only buys us time,” Aqualad says. He touches a scrape on his shoulder, adding, “Time we must take advantage of.”

"We will! Speedy, do you still have one of those arrows that contains a bunch of tiny bombs?"

Roy withdraws the requested weapon and nocks it. "Where am I aiming?"

"If I open the dome at the top, and you fire it straight up, the bombs will rain down on them!" Dick says excitedly. "That will work, right?"

"I’ll take it. Tell me when, bird boy," Roy says.

Bluejay raises his hand, signaling for them to wait. In another twenty seconds, the entirety of the dome is covered in writhing shadows. "Now!"

Dick pulls the shield apart. Roy fires. The instant the arrow clears his construct, the Lantern smashes it back together.

The explosions ram into the barrier, hard enough to rattle Dick's bones. He grits his teeth and wills the shield to hold.

It does.

When the smoke clears, the shield is covered in a thin layer of soot. The demons are gone. Most importantly, all five of them are still alive.

"Holy shit! That was so badass!" Wally crows. He zips over and pulls the acrobat into a hug. Dick yelps as his costume warps.

"Back up! You're wearing way too much yellow for this!"

"Sorry, sorry!" 

Aqualad approaches the duo, looking pensive. "You are a worthy hero, young Lantern. I am Kaldur’ahm of Atlantis."

"I'm Dick! Nice to meet you!" He turns to Bluejay, adding, "Batman won't let you tell me your name, huh?"

"Nope," the boy says ruefully. "But you seem cool, so I bet we'll see more of each other."

"You know what this means?" Wally asks. He bounces in place, looking like a kid in a candy store.

"Please, share with the class," Roy drawls.

"This was a team-up! And we’re a great team!"

Surprised, the other boys look at each other, then at the town. 

The town they had _saved._

_Wally’s right— we are a good team. And that means we’re going to do this again and again, just like our mentors._

Dick’s only got one thing to say to that.

_"Astrous."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick's "Spiders are friends!" crack is a shameless reference to Tim's final line in Grand Theft Skateboard.
> 
> I used bits and pieces of multiple canon stories in Carol and Hal's Emotional Spectrum 101 lecture.
> 
> The top of Dick's uniform resembles the modern Nightwing costume from the comics (sans the fingerstripes).
> 
> Hal has not adopted Dick (yet); Wally was joking when he called him Richard Jordan-Grayson.
> 
> EDIT: I lied; this is not the end. There will be a coda posted soon!


	11. Coda: All I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal has a question for Dick.
> 
> If only the universe would give him a chance to ask it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said it was over, but this scene wouldn't leave my head!

**«Watchtower, Earth’s Orbit, Sector 2814»**

**«June 18th, 2014, 10:56 PDT»**

Today, Hal is doing the unthinkable.

He is actively seeking out Bruce Wayne.

 _And that's the kicker,_ he thinks as he floats down the hallway. _Green Lantern has plenty of reasons to talk to Batman. But Hal Jordan isn't supposed to be chatting up_ Gotham’s biggest playboy.

 _…then again, Bruce and “Brucie” are_ also _entirely different people. God, that guy’s identity issues make my head spin._

"Hello? Earth to Green Lantern?" Someone calls. 

A gloved hand snaps in front of his nose. Hal follows the blue-clad arm up to Bluejay's face (which is pinched in irritation) and drawls, "Oh, hey, kid. I was just thinking."

"Did it hurt?"

"Hey," Hal says, forming a tape measure and pointing at the five-foot mark, "you must be this tall to sass me."

The lenses of Bluejay’s mask narrow. "This is why Batman can't stand you."

"That reminds me… do you know where your dad is?"

"He's not my dad!" Bluejay snarls. Then, quieter: "But he's in the Javelin Bay."

"Thanks, 'Jay. See ya later," Hal says. He flies away from the now befuddled vigilante, wondering how on earth he’s supposed to start this conversation.

 _Hey, B, nice to see you again. Can I ask you how Bluejay became your son? No, I know how adoption works, I mean_ how did you tell him you want to be his dad? _Like,_ legally, _'cause the emotional part doesn't seem to have clicked for him._

He sounds so fucking stupid. Sighing, Hal weaves around the wings of the Javelins and finds Batman tinkering with one of his personal ships.

"Lantern," he greets. "What do you need?"

"I didn't say anything! What if I just wanna go for a fly?"

"You don't."

"You got me," Hal exhales nervously. "I need to talk to you. I mean, _you,_ not Batman."

Batman rises and ushers Hal into the ship. Then he pulls off his cowl, revealing his disheveled hair and tired expression.

"What's going on, Hal?"

"It's about Dick," the pilot begins. “He’s… god, he drives me insane. Do you know what he did last week? He _set off an explosion_ in his middle school’s chemistry lab. They had to shut down the school five days early, Bruce. It was on the news.”

“Children do these things.”

"Maybe _your_ kid does, but not— ugh, forget it! The point is, Dick is a capital-E experience, but I love him anyway. And he's on Oa right now, so this is the only opportunity I have to ask you for advice. I—"

"—want to adopt him?"

"How did you DO that?"

"I _am_ a detective," Bruce says wryly. "How long have you had the papers?"

"Five years," admits Hal. "I just didn't think it was time to ask until after the whole Sonder fiasco. He, uh… said that he thinks of me as his dad."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Adoption is all official, you know? It's legally binding. What if signing the papers is too… I dunno, _real_ for him?"

Bruce runs his hand over the dashboard, looking thoughtful. "It's possible. But I don't think that's the case. You didn't hear what he said when he was shouting at Shayera, did you?"

"Just raised voices," Hal confirms.

"Well, here," Bruce says, using the ship's onboard computer to access archived Watchtower footage. "Listen."

He presses play. Hal catches the tail end of the Thanagarian’s derisive comment. Then Bruce cuts in— his tone positively frigid— and Dick starts yelling.

**"Don’t say that about Hal! He saved me! When my parents died, he held me! He gave me his jacket! He took me in, and he taught me English, and he sat at my bedside when I had nightmares! He’s my fucking dad, and you don’t get to talk shit about him!"**

Hal's jaw drops. _Dick told me he screamed at Hawkwoman, and he told me he called me his dad, but I didn't know he said_ that!

"Holy shit."

"I think," Bruce murmurs, "that he'll agree. Just be honest with him, and it'll work out."

“I hope so. Thanks for the advice, Bats,” Hal says. He rises and floats towards the door, adding, “I know you hate me, so I’ll get outta your hair now—”

"I don't hate you, Hal."

The pilot nearly tumbles out of the ship. He catches himself in midair and stares, thunderstruck, as Bruce replaces the cowl.

"Um, what?"

Batman turns, cape whirling out behind him. "I think you cause an unnecessary amount of damage when you fight, and you are undeniably reckless and flippant with authority. But I don't hate you. I'm not sure how everyone got that impression."

"Well, you aren't the type to give people warm fuzzies," Hal stammers. "Not that you have to be. The League needs someone to lurk in the shadows and brood— it spices things up."

"Jordan, this conversation is beginning to cause me physical pain. Go find your son already."

Hal stifles a laugh and heads for the bay doors. Before he flies out, he pauses to say,

"You know, I don't think Bluejay will ever admit it, but he really looks up to you. You definitely didn't make a mistake when you adopted him."

He soars into the eternal night, leaving Batman alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**«New York City, NY, United States of America»**

**«June 26th, 2014, 03:12 EST»**

Unfortunately, Hal is stymied by a skirmish with some pirates in the Kuiper Belt, and by the time he gets to Oa, he’s forgotten all about his question. When he finally remembers what he'd meant to ask, two weeks have passed.

Oh, and they’ve gotten into trouble. Again.

Dick zips past him and plows into a weapons dealer, an eerily realistic replica of Diana’s lasso swinging from his hand. The new Green Lantern decal on his uniform glows underneath the dim light. Hal twists his fingers and flings a dozen emerald knives, feeling pride swell in his chest.

Dick’s training on Oa hadn’t been easy. Between Kilowog’s general gruffness and flak from senior Lanterns that didn’t believe he should’ve been given a ring, the poor acrobat had had his hands full. But he’d persevered, and five days ago, he’d taken the oath before the Central Power Battery.

Now, Coast City is the home of _two_ full-fledged Green Lanterns.

“Good job, kiddo,” Hal says as the last crook collapses. 

Dick grins. “Thanks! What are we gonna do with them?”

Hal raises his hands. Beneath the pile of unconscious criminals, a green square takes shape. It folds itself into a box, and a jaunty bow plops onto the top.

“Think the police would like a present?”

“What’s not to like?” Dick snickers. “You wrapped it up and everything.”

Hal snorts and rises into the air, towing the box along behind him. “I feel like you’re mocking my style, but I’m gonna let it slide. Grab those guns, would you?”

Dick gives him a lazy salute and bundles the weapons into a large sack. Satisfied with their work, Hal takes off.

It doesn't take long for Dick to outpace him. He weaves through the clouds, swift as any bird, and before Hal knows it, he's a solid half-mile behind his son. It’s partly because Dick doesn’t have to worry about his cargo; unlike Hal, he isn’t towing around people. But a solid 70% of the gap can be attributed to the fact that Dick is a better flyer.

Once, Hal would’ve been jealous. He’d gotten into a billion petty fights over flight times with Carol and the other pilots, after all. Now, though, he feels nothing but overwhelming delight.

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Dick calls. He’s hovering above a skyscraper, a megaphone clutched in his free hand.

The pilot comes closer, his question forming on the tip of his tongue. 

But one of the weapons dealers wakes up and starts screaming, and Hal tables the conversation.

Again.

* * *

**«Coast City, CA, United States of America»**

**«June 30th, 2014, 16:38 PDT»**

Hal’s really starting to think that the universe has something against him.

In the past four days, he’s tried to talk to Dick twelve times. _Twelve._ And every single time, something ridiculous happens, and his question dies before it leaves his lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he grumbles to Barry, tapping his spoon against the side of his Ben and Jerry’s container. “Did I piss off a god? That’s totally possible, right?”

“Sure; Diana does it all the time. But I think it’s a coincidence, Hal.”

“Twelve coincidences? Bats starts calling it a crime at two!”

“Bruce is a strange and mysterious creature, but I’m sure he’d tell you that no one could’ve predicted this,” Barry replies.

“This” being that Jennie and her family had unexpectedly moved to Jump City. Her departure helped Hal understand why Dick had blown up their school’s chemistry lab; according to the jumbled conversation he’d overheard, it had been the world’s most demented going away present. 

Hal blames Wally for teaching Dick how to do it in the first place. He also blames the young speedster for his latest failed conversation— apparently, Wally had complained to Dick about never getting to meet Jennie, and Dick’s solution was to grab his friend and fly 300 miles north in a slapdash F-22 construct.

Hal could’ve chased them. He could’ve gotten Barry to as well. But instead, he’s sitting on his couch and eating his way through a gallon of Cherry Garcia, feeling defeated.

“What if it’s just not meant to be?” He asks, staring at the swirl of pink liquid inside the tub.

Barry inhales his slushie and shakes his head, saying, “No way. When the universe tells you good things, you say, ‘Cool, thanks.’ But when it tells you bad things, you’ve gotta scream, ‘Not today, bitch!’”

"Do you, like, know what destiny is?" Hal asks. “‘Cause it doesn’t work like that.”

"You can _make_ it work!"

"Now you sound like a motivational poster—"

The pilot’s teasing is interrupted by the wail of an alarm. Surprised, he raises his ring hand and answers the transmission. It’s from the Watchtower, and a frantic Oliver is shouting into the receiver:

"Code Red! I repeat, Code Red! Unidentified spacecraft have entered our atmosphere! They’re already attacking cities on the western seaboard…"

Hal and Barry exchange a quick glance, and in the blink of an eye, both of them are clad in their costumes. The second his mask finishes forming, Hal jumps onto the speedster's back and holds on for dear life.

Barry takes off, phasing through the window and racing over the buildings in his way. Hal closes his eyes in an attempt to shield himself against the bite of the wind and the dizzying blur of shapes and colors. He doesn’t have to endure the disorientation for long; within minutes, they arrive in Los Angeles.

The city is in complete chaos. Panicking people are scrambling out of the path of huge warships, and to Hal’s fury, individual aliens on smaller craft are trailing them through the air. They fire at the civilians and laugh whenever their prey screams.

 _These assholes are picking on them,_ Hal thinks, snapping out his hand and snagging the nearest alien with a pincer construct. _No wonder Clark and Diana are already going to town; there’s no way to end this peacefully!_

The pilot pulls the alien closer, eyes fixed on its scaly, brown face. It bares its teeth at him, and Hal’s ring identifies it as a Tyrian— a kind of conqueror from the Andromeda galaxy.

“Far from home, aren’t ya,” he says, letting his ring warp his English into a series of guttural clicks and hisses. “Well, we’re gonna make you wish you stayed over there!”

Hauling back, Hal pitches the Tyrian like a baseball. It flies into the path of one of Stargirl’s blasts and promptly explodes.

He can’t find it in him to feel bad.

A flash of green catches his eye, and Hal raises his head. Above him, Dick is hovering between two Tyrian spacecraft. As he watches in horror, the ships’ guns swivel and fixate on his son. 

His son, who already looks battered and bruised.

Hal launches into the air and forms a shield, just in time to prevent Dick from becoming toast. (Literally— the outside of the construct is now littered with black marks.)

"Thanks," the acrobat pants. "I wasn't doing so hot, and I lost Wally, like, twenty minutes ago. What are these things?"

"Tyrians. Famous for murdering first and talking later,” Hal grunts. He creates a massive cleaver and drops the shield to slash through the ships. “You okay, kiddo?"

"Never better. DUCK!"

Hal doesn’t stop to think; he dives out of the way, and Dick hurls a javelin over his head. It slams into the speeder of the Tyrian that had been sneaking up on them. A forlorn howl reaches his ears as the small craft tumbles towards the ground.

Hal stares at the gap between the clouds and comes to a realization: he has to ask his question now. Fuck prefect timing— they’re heroes. There will _always_ be crises clamoring for their attention.

So he’s gotta take this opportunity before it’s gone.

“Dick!” Hal yells. His voice rises over the shrieking wind and the distant sounds of combat. Somehow, miraculously, it reaches his son.

“What?”

“Do you want me to adopt you?!”

Dick knocks another Tyrian out with a well-placed kick and shouts, “Are you serious?”

“Yes! I’ve never been more sure of anything, and believe me, I really thought I was sure about Shay—”

“Who the fuck is Shay?” Dick asks. He sounds utterly bemused, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The pilot beams at the sight and promises,

“Long story. I’ll tell you later. What do you say?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I… I want that.”

Hal fires a cannon in celebration and crushes his son into a hug. Dick returns it, laughter bubbling out of his mouth.

“I hate to interrupt this touching moment,” Big Barda says as she leaps off of a stolen speeder, “but can you cuddle some other time? There’s a war on.”

-

A few days later, after the remaining Tyrians have retreated and the League has once again broken a record for property damage, Hal is having a spirited debate with Dick. They glare at each other over steaming mugs of hot chocolate, neither one of them willing to back down.

"I mean, I’ll still eat it, but cake is better than pie," Dick insists, setting his cup down with a sharp clink. "Like, pie doesn't go with certain drinks. Lemon meringue and coffee? Gross!"

"Pumpkin pie goes great with coffee," Hal counters. "Also, most cakes are just frosting in disguise. It's sugary and gross and a total waste of money."

"‘Sugary and a total waste of money?’ Do you know how old you sound right now?" 

The pilot gasps. "Take that back!"

"Nope!" Dick says cheerfully. He hops to his feet, runs to the door, unlatches it, and bolts, calling, "I'm going to the store and buying cake with your credit card!"

"Absolutely not!" Hal shrieks, dropping his empty mug and dashing after his son. On his way out of the apartment, he passes a newly redecorated wall.

The papers he had long ago hidden beside his lantern have been framed and mounted. On the dotted lines are two signatures: Harold Jordan and Richard Jordan-Grayson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, and for your infinite patience!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave feedback! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
